THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

David  Freedraan 


A- 


ROMANCE 

AND 

HUMOR  OF  THE  RAIL. 

A    BOOK    FOR 

RAILWAY  MEN  AND    TRAVELLERS, 

REPRESENTING 

EVERYDAY    LIFE    ON     THE     RAILROAD, 

IN 

<8>fccrg   g*partmtnt   of  i\t   $ailfoag   Sbttbiu, 

WITH 

SKETCHES  AND  RHYMES  OF  ROMANCE, 

AND 

NUMEROUS    ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS. 

EDITED    BY 

STEPHE  SMITH. 


NEW  YORK: 

G.    W.    Carleton    &?   Co.,    Publishers. 

LONDON:    S.    LOW,    SON   &   CO. 
M.DCCC.LXXIII. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873,  by 
G.    W.    CARLETON    &    CO., 

In  die  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Stereotyped  at  the 

women's     printing     house, 

56,  58  and  60  Park  Street, 

New  York. 


URL 


TO 

Hon.    FRANCIS    G  0  LT  0  N , 

FORMERLY 

UNITED   STATES   OONWL  TO   VENICE, 

AND    LATE 

GENERAL    PASSENGER    AGENT 

OF  THB 

UNION     PACIFIC     RAI  LWAY, 

THIS   BOOK    IS 

gnsrribrb,    as    an    (Earnest    Crilmte    of   gltspttt, 

TO   A 

Warm     J^riend 

AND 

COURTEOUS     GENTLEMAN. 


845993 


CONTENTS. 


APTKR  PACK 

I. — Dedication «; 

II. — Preface;  or,  Way-bill 9 

III. — Fogyville  and  the  Branch 11 

IV.— The  Poetry  of  the  Rail 23 

V. — Everyday  Life  on  the  Rail — Engineers,  Firemen, 

etc. — Rhymes,  etc 28 

VI. — Guelden's  Last  Drink — An  Engineer's  Confession    62 
VII. — The  Maniac's  Ride— An  Engineer's  Story     .         .69 
VIII. — Everyday  Life  on  the  Rail — Among  the  Passengers, 
Conductors,     Baggage-men,     etc. — Rhymes, 

etc 80 

IX. — No  One  to  Blame — A  Poem         ....  128 
X. — The  Railway  Postal  Service  ....  130 

XI. — The  Night  Express — A  Station-agent's  Rhyme       .  134 
XII.— On  the  Night  Train— Prose  Sketch      .        .        .136 
XIII — The  Little  Cripple— A  Poem        .        .        .        .141 
XIV. — Everyday  Life  on  the  Rail — Among  the  Freight- 
men,   Conductors,   and   Brakemen — Rhymes, 

etc 143 

XV. — Dead — And  no  Name— A  Poem  .        .        .        .161 
XVI — "How   to   Detect  Them"— "On  Commission"  165 
XVII.— Everyday  Life  on  the  Rail — Among  the  Railway 

Telegraphists,  etc 173 


vni  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVIII.— "Come  Home!"— A  Telegraphist's  Story    .        .   190-^ 
XIX. — The  Phantom  Conductor — A  Passenger's  Story     .  200 
XX. — The  Railway  at  Home  and  Abroad,  etc         .         .  213 
XXI. — The  Rear  Car — A  Commercial  Traveller's  Story    .  226 
XXII. — The  Snow  Blockade — Travellers  Snowed-in — They 

grunt,  groan,  and  guzzle         .         .         .         .231 
XXIII.— The  Colossus  of  Roads — A  Rhyme       .         .         .251 
XXIV. — Five  Minutes  Behind — A  Switchman's  Story          .  254  ' 
XXV. — Up  and  Down  the  Rail — By  an  Office-man    .         .  269 
XXVI. — A  Railway  Detective's  Confession          .         .         .  276 
XXVII. — The  Founder  of  the  Railway  System — A  Biographi- 
cal Sketch 279 

XXVIII. — Anecdotes  and  Incidents  of  the  Rail     .        .        .  2S4 
XXIX.— The  Deaf  Cove— A  Detective's  Story.        .        .323 
XXX.— The  Hotel  Clerk  of  the  Period— A  Confidential 
Note  to  Marmaduke  Macomber,  of  the  St. 
James 339 


PREFACE. 


ii. 


WAY-BILL. 

USTOM  has  decided  that  no  book  can  start 
safely  upon  its  travels  without  a  learned  intro- 
duction. No  experienced  Engineer  will  "  pull 
out"  without  first  sounding  his  bell,  nor  will  a  prudent 
Conductor  leave  the  depot  without  the  final  "all 
aboard."  To  this  limit  would  the  author  confine  his 
Preface.  Having  made  up  his  train,  and  received  his 
orders,  he  has  only  to  give  the  signal,  join  his  passen- 
gers, keep  a  "wild  eye,"  and  leave  the  rest  with  Provi- 
dence. If  there  should  be  a  defective  axle,  a  flaw  in  a 
wheel,  or  an  imperfect  box,  he  must  endure  the  anxiety 
and  suspense,  from  which  the  conscientious  Conductor 
is  never  free,  and  be  ready  for  the  reproach  and  abuse 
which  is  his  constant  portion. 

The  author  presents  this  little  volume  to  the  Railroad 
public,  believing  that  it  will  be  of  interest  to  employes 


IO  PREFACE. 

in  every  department  of  the  service.  It  is  not  designed 
as  a  book  of  horrors,  hairbreadth  escapes,  or  impossible 
adventures ;  nor  does  it  attempt  to  recount  the  fearful 
accidents  and  disasters  which  go  to  swell  the  record  of 
every  railroad  year.  Its  mission  is  to  entertain,  rather 
than  to  instruct ;  to  represent  Everyday  Life  on  the  Rail 
as  the  author  has  found  it.  To  the  Traveller,  it  presents 
scenes  and  incidents  which  may  serve  to  recall  his  own 
experiences. 

A  few  of  the-  sketches,  rhymes,  and  incidents,  the  au- 
thor has  already  given  to  the  public  in  newspaper  corre- 
spondence from  different  parts  of  this  and  other  coun- 
tries ;  but  one  never  loses  his  relish  for  a  palatable  dish 
by  having  it  twice  served.  Prepared  in  intervals  of  ac- 
tive duty  upon  the  Daily  Press,  it  makes  no  claim  to  lit- 
erary merit  or  elaborate  polish.  If  it  shall  present  the 
Railway  employe  to  a  prejudiced  Public  in  a  more  fa- 
vorable light,  or  contribute  in  the  slightest  degree  to  the 
pleasure  of  the  Railway  Traveller,  the  author's  object 
will  have  been  fully  attained. 

He  feels  honored  in  being  permitted  to  dedicate  his 
work  to  the  successor  of  W.  D.  Howells  and  "  Ik.  Mar- 
vel "  at  the  U.  S.  Consulate  of  Venice.  A  man  of  let- 
ters, an  experienced  Traveller,  and  a  worthy  type  of  that 
refined  element  which  has  elevated  the  Railway  business 
in  this  country,  his  name  deserves  to  be  recorded  on  a 
worthier  page.  S.  S. 

Smithville,  Seft.  i,  187a. 


Ill 


FOGYVILLE    AND    THE     BRANCH. 

Fogyville,  the  last  Anti-Railway  Corporation — Its  prominent  Char- 
acters— Threatened  Advance  of  the  Branch — Opposition  in  the 
Interest  of  the  Stage  Line— 'Squire  Jones— The  Man  who 
couldn't  see  it  ! — How  it  became  visible  at  last  ! 


|EFORE  introducing  the  reader  to  the  Men  of 
the  Road,  and  the  personal  experiences  that  go 
to  make  up  Everyday  Life  on  the  Rail,  the  au- 
thor begs  permission   to  present  the  town   of 
Fogyville,  the  last  respectable  village  that  opposed  the 
advance  of  the  inevitable  Railway. 

Without  describing  its  exact  location,  it  will  suffice  to 
say,  that  it  is  situated  in  a  thriving  State,  about  forty 
miles  distant  from  the  metropolis  in  which  I  resided,  and 
at  the  time  of  my  frequent  visits,  it  was  in  the  hands  of 
our  dear  old  Stage-coach  friends  that  we  all  loved  so  well. 
I  liked  the  town  because  it  was  somewhat  faded ;  in  an 
undecided  state  of  transition ;  uncertain  whether  to  ac- 
cept the  insidious  advances  of  the  proposed  branch  from 
a  remote  main  line  of  railway  in  a  friendly  spirit,  or  si- 
multaneously close  its  shutters  and  emigrate  West  in  a 


I2  FOGYVILLE  AND   THE  BRANCH. 

compact  body,  to  grow  up  with  the  place.  It  was  attract- 
ive to  me,  because  it  was  a  sulky  coaching  chrysalis,  de- 
termined not  to  develop  into  the  railway  butterfly  without 
a  severe  struggle.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  take  my  pipe 
into  the  public  room  of  the  leading  hotel  of  the  place,  and 
hear  the  proprietor  of  the  "  National  Stage  Line,"  hotel- 
keepers,  liverymen,  and  other  oracles  converse  upon  the 
probability  of  the  railway  ever  reaching  Fogyville,  and 
the  injurious  effects  which  it  would  have  upon  trade,  if 
the  infernal  thing  ever  came  so  far.  I  could  ask  for  noth- 
ing more  refreshing  than  a  discourse  from  such  men  upon 
the  destiny  of  railway  enterprise,  its  operation  upon  the 
country  at  large,  and  its  final  operation  upon  Fogyville 
itself.  It  was  amusing,  for  instance,  to  see  Thompson — 
who  owned  three  buggies,  one  gig,  and  a  hearse — driven 
almost  mad  at  times,  when  some  commercial  traveller 
would  arrive  with  fresh  and  strengthening  rumors  of  the 
advancing  iron  road.  And  again,  when  inflated  with  an 
extra  quantity  of  local  beverages,  he  would  draw  himself 
up  to  his  full  height,  expand  to  more  than  his  full  breadth, 
and  resolve  to  oppose,  single-handed,  if  need  be,  the  tide 
of  the  threatened  improvement.  One  portly  gentleman, 
known  as  'Squire  Jones,  gravely  shook  his  head  and  ex- 
pressed a  doubt  whether,  with  all  his  capital,  Thompson 
was  equal  to  the  task.  Others — I  remember  the  brave 
fellows  well — expressed  the  hope  that  Fogyville  would 
some  day  become  a  Railroad  Station,  but  the  dismal 
sentiment  was  soon  crushed  by  a  storm  of  doubts  and 
misgivings. 

I  went  to  Fogyville  every  season  to  angle  for  trout. 
The  town  boasted  a  trout  stream  that,  as  a  true  sports- 
man, I  would  not  exchange  to-day  for  the  best-paying 
railroad  in  this  broad  land.     I  am  not  therefore  bound  to 


FOGYVILLE  AND   THE  BRANCH. 


13 


give  the  true  name  of  my  retreat,  nor  does  it  concern  the 
reader  whether  it  lies  at  the  East  or  the  West.  To  reach 
this  retreat  in  those  days,  it  required  a  six  hours'  journey 
and  an  outlay  of  between  five  and  ten  dollars.  I  can 
run  out  now  in  less  than  two  hours,  at  almost  any  period  of 
the  day,  for  the  matter  of  a  dollar  and  a  half.  It  has  not 
the  same  air  of  seclusion  now  that  it  wore  in  the  old 
staging  days ;  and  sometimes,  as  I  lie  upon  the  sloping 
grass  watching  my  float,  I  fancy  I  can  see  the  smoke  cf 
the  metropolis,  rising  and  floating  above  the  trees,  and 
hear  the  roar  cf  the  humming  city  life.  In  the  evening  I 
return  to  the  little  white  hotel,  take  a  fresh  pipe,  and  lis- 
ten to  the  conversation  of  the  wise  men  of  the  village. 
When  I  first  went  there,  Fogyville  was  in  the  full  pride, 
profit,  and  glory  of  the  old  Stage-coaching  days.  From 
ten  to  fifteen  highly  painted,  well-horsed  rolling  stages 
passed  through  from  an  early  hour  in  the  morning  until 
a  late  hour  of  the  night.  The  principal  hotel  was  then 
a  sight  to  see.  Horses  standing  outside  in  the  road; 
porters  rushing  to  and  fro  with  baggage ;  hostlers  busy 
with  bright  and  complicated  harness ;  passengers,  both 
male  and  female,  alighting  from  the  vehicles,  assisted  by 
obliging  drivers,  the  proprietor  himself,  or  mine  host  of 
the  "-Union  Hotel."  Buxom  landlady  and  neat  chamber- 
maids standing  at  the  doors,  under  the  broad  whitewashed 
porch,  ready  to  welcome  the  guests. 

The  commercial  traveller  of  those  days  was  a  stead)', 
easy-going,  time-taking,  pioneer  of  trade,  who  drove  his 
own  team,  or  rode  his  own  horse.  Not  the  bustling, 
high-pressure,  watch-consulting,  New  York  or  Chicago 
maniac  who  is  left  to  us  now.  He  was  known  as  an 
"Agent,"  with  no  authority  beyond  the  task  that  had 
been  given  him  to  do,  and  he  gloried  in  the  appellation, 


14  FOGYVILLE  AND    THE  BRANCH. 

without  having  the  ambition  to  be  regarded  as  a  com- 
mercial gentleman.  To  obtain  the  favor  of  a  choice  seat 
in  .the  coach,  or  indeed  a  seat  of  any  kind,  was  an  affair 
of  many  days'  booking  and  quite  a  fee  in  silver  or  gold. 
The  keepers  of  toll-gates  were  ready,  obedient,  and  re- 
spectful ;  hostlers  at  roadside  houses,  where  we  "  changed 
horses,"  were  filled  with  admiration  approaching  venera- 
tion. It  was  the  height  of  their  ambition,  you  see,  to  be 
called  upon  some  day  to  fill  a  position  of  such  imposing 
and  heavy  responsibility  as  that  of  a  driver  of  a  four-horse 
coach  over  a  first-class  road.  Some  such  conversation 
as  the  following  was  frequently  heard  between  the  two 
men  who  led  the  relieved  steeds  up  the  yard  : 

"  Tom  knows  a  thing  or  two  about  hosses,  eh,  Bill  ?  " 

"As  well  as  any  a  man  on  the  road,  Jack." 

"  There  ain't  the  driver  on  the  road  as  can  git  over 
him  when  he's  a-mind." 

"  Not  exactly,  Jack." 

Sometimes,  if  a  driver  happened  to  be  new,  or  a  little 
verdant  and.  ill  liberal,  the  remarks  were  not  so  full  of  ad- 
miration. 

"  Why,  he's  no  more  use  for  four  on  'em,  Bill,  than  my 
little  finger." 

"No  more  he  ain't,  Jack.  I'll  bring  a  boy  as  will  lick 
him  any  day,  with  his  own  team  on  his  own  run." 

"  Ony  boy,  ony  infant,  Jack." 

This  was  about  the  status  of  things  when  I  first  began- 
to  visit  my  country  town.  At  this  period  the  first  rumors 
of  a  great  railway  enterprise  began  to  dawn  upon  the 
world,  and,  after  a  decent  interval,  upon  the  town  of  Fogy- 
ville.  It  is  not  my  purpose  to  call  up  the  barber  of  this 
village ;  the  keeper  of  the  corner  grocery  who  dealt  out 
fresh  meat  twice  a  week ;  the  dealer  in  dry -goods  and 


FOGYVILLE  AND    THE  BRANCH,  ^ 

queen's-ware,  and  several  important  agriculturists,  and  the 
usual  nightly  visitors  of  a  country  hotel,  in  order  to  ridi- 
cule their  opinions  upon  what  was  at  that  time  the  in 
comprehensible  wonder  of  the  age.     They  spoke  accord- 
ing to  their  lights,  and  if  these  were  not  brilliant,  they  had 
many  m  authority  whose  intellects  ought  to  have  been 
sharpened  by   early  training  and  intercourse  with   the 
world,  to  keep  them  in  arguments  for  their  nightly  gather- 
ings.     The   local  papers  of  my  country  town   copied 
everything  that  was  launched  in  type  in  the  metropolis 
against  the  new  gigantic  scheme,  and  every  citizen  wan- 
dered about  armed  with   these   silent    but  formidable 
weapons.  c 

Mr.  Ross-Major  Ross  I  believe  they  called  him-the 
proprietor  of  the  «  National  Stage  Line,"  was  the  central 
hgure  in  our  little  arena  of  tobacco-smoke  and  discussion. 
He  owned  nearly  all  the  vehicles  and  horses  running  to 
and  from  my  country  town,  as  well  as  the  necessary  ar- 
rangement for  traffic  on  the  National  road.  A  tall,  pow- 
erful man  with  a  red  face,  a  loud  voice,  and  a  sp  endid 
capaaty  for  the  leading  IocaI  beverage-     ^  ^ 

created  his  present  position-he  had  been  born  in  it 
Ihe  frequenters  of  my  country  hotel  gave  the  Major 
credit  for  possessing  a  vast  fund  of  wisdom,  but  he  kept 
i  to  himself.  During  the  discussions  on  the  great  railway 
question  I  never  heard  him  speak  but  a  few  words  I 
record  his  favorite  and  oracular  remarks  here,  because 

"  Well  T   SmC,e   bCen  dlSt°rted   bt0   a  VU]^  1*™ . 
Well,  it  may  be  very  good,  but  I  can't  see  it  "     Then 

after  a  little  reflection,  he  would  add,  -No,  I  can't  see 

In  this  way  a  few  years  rolled  by,  and  I  still  paid  my 
regular  summer  visits  to  my  country  town.     The  barber. 


1 6  FOGYVILLE  AND    THE  BRANCH. 

whom  I  had  indoctrinated  with  my  views  upon  railways, 
had  died  with  opinions  far  in  advance  of  his  village  and 
his  age.  He  left  his  business  to  an  only  son,  with  these 
memorable  words:  "Joseph,  my  son,  a  great  movement 
is  a-comin',  keep  an  eye  on't !  " 

Major  Ross  still  held  fast  to  his  coaches  of  the  "  Nation- 
al Line,"  in  the  face  of  several  tempting  offers.  He  drank, 
if  anything,  a  little  more  of  the  local  beverage,  and  could 
not  see  it.  In  another  year  the  main  line  approached  near- 
er, and  as  I  said  at  the  start,  the  enterprising  directors 
had  mapped  out  a  branch  to  my  country  town.  It  was 
at  this  time  that  I  saw  one  of  the  early  surveyors  seized 
by  the  indignant  villagers  and  ducked  in  a  horse-pond, 
but  I  dared  not  interfere. 

There  was  much  excitement  and  an  unusually  strong 
muster  at  the  hotel  that  evening,  with  a  flattering  disposi- 
tion to  rally  around  Major  Ross  as  the  representative  of 
the  coaching  interest.  Saluting  the  sympathy  expressed 
or  implied,  with  a  stage  bow,  the  Major  refreshed  himself 
with  another  draught  of  the  local  beverage,  and  merely 
remarked  that  he  couldn't  see  it.  What  he  thought  he 
would  not  say,  but  he  rested  his  faith,  I  think,  with  other 
interested  townspeople,  upon  'Squire  Jones,  to  turn  back 
the  advancing  tide  of  railway  encroachment.  This  gen- 
tleman was  the  largest  land  proprietor  in  the  whole 
county.  He  indulged  in  profanity  occasionally,  patron- 
ized horse-races,  got  a  little  groggy  every  night,  and 
visited  the  theatre  on  State  occasions  in  the  metropolis. 
He  owned  extensive  acres  and  many  farms.  No  branch 
line  could  possibly  reach  my  country  town,  unless  it 
passed  for  several  miles  through  the  property  of  the  popu- 
lar 'Squire.  The  faith  of  the  townspeople  in  the 'Squire's 
anti- railway    sentiments    was    very   great.     The    silent 


FOGYVILLE  AND    THE  BRANCH.  \j 

Major  Ross  shared  in  the  general  feeling.  He  knew,  in- 
deed everybody  knew,  that  the  'Squire's  favorite  recrea- 
tion was  to  meet  Major  Ross'  "  Lightning  Express  coach  " 
and  relieve  the  driver  for  a  ten-mile  dash,  handling  the 
ribbons  with  a  grace  and  skill,  that  the  drivers  professed 
to  believe  was  the  height  of  perfection.  Knowing 
this,  no  one  could  hesitate  about  the  nature  and  extent  of 
the  'Squire's  opposition  to  the  proposed  branch  railway. 

Another  period  of  a  few  years.  'Squire  Jones  did  op- 
pose the  railway,  and  prevented  the  extension  of  the 
branch  to  my  country  town.  A  majority  of  the  inhabi- 
tants believed  that  principle  was  at  the  bottom  of  this. 
Some  of  us  thought  that  it  was  because  the  worthy  gen- 
tleman had  not  been  offered  his  price.  Railway  pioneers 
were  very  liberal  in  those  days,  but  ancient  home-places 
and  family  acres  were  not  to  be  cut  up  to  encourage 
rapid  communication,  like  a  common,  plebeian  farm. 
The  'Squire,  therefore,  remained  shrewdly  passive. 

In  the  meantime,  the  road  came  on  apace.  It  had 
reached  a  point  about  five  miles  distant  from  my  country 
town.  At  this  point  the  directors  also  assumed  a  passive 
position.  This  had  an  injurious  effect  upon  the  National 
Line,  still  Major  Ross  couldn't  see  it.  Two  hours'  walk, 
or  one  hour's  drive,  brought  the  traveller  to  the  station, 
and  two  hours  more  by  rail,  with  a  trifling  fee,  carried 
him  to  the  metropolis.  For  a  time  the  people  of  Fogy- 
ville  looked  shyly  upon  this  new  and  cheap  mode  of  con- 
veyance. Exaggerated  stories  of  dangers  to  be  feared, 
and  fearful  accidents  that  had  already  occurred,  began  to 
circulate.  I  regret  that  I  am  compelled  to  believe  that 
these  horrors  were  peddled  about  through  my  country 
town  in  that  gentleman's  interest  He  couldn't  see  it, 
it  is  true,  but  he  had  been  wise  enough  to  reduce  his 


1 8  FOGYVILLE  AND   THE  BRANCH. 

fares,  to  meet  the  new  competition.  One  or  two  advent- 
urous spirits  were  finally  induced  to  try  the  experiment 
of  a  railway  journey  to  the  metropolis.  They  returned 
uninjured,  with  a  favorable  report  of  the  sensations  they 
had  experienced.  Others  followed,  and  the  railroad  rose 
steadily  in  popularity,  in  proportion  as  the  novelty  and 
the  fear  of  danger  wore  off. 

Then  came  the  severest  trial  to  Major  Ross.  His 
own  family  began  to  turn  against  him.  One  morning 
the  sad  intelligence  reached  him,  that  his  nephew  on  the 
wife's  side,  had  started  off  without  the  knowledge  of  his 
parents,  to  make  his  first  trip  upon  the  railway.  The 
mother  came  around  with  tears  to  explain  and  apologize 
to  Mrs.  Ross.  This  excellent  lady  in  her  turn  conveyed 
the  apologies  and  explanations  to  her  solemn  husband. 
He  did  not  say  much,  he  never  did ;  but  it  was  plain  that 
he  felt  the  terrible  affliction.  His  passengers  dropped 
off,  day  by  day,  his  baggage-carrying  was  entirely  gone ; 
his  daily  consumption  of  the  leading  local  beverage  in- 
creased, and  he  was  again  induced  by  the  advice  of 
friends  to  reduce  his  fares.  Major  Ross,  proprietor  of 
the  "  National  Line,"  began  to  see  it ! 

I  continued  my  trips  to  Fogyville,  clinging  with  the 
tenacity  of  a  first-love  to  the  old  "  National  Line." 
There  were  numerous  melancholy  changes  for  the  worse. 
The  horses  were  old,  ill-fed,  and  slow.  The  toll-keepers 
were  less  admiring  and  respectful.  Gradually  the  little 
hotels  on  the  line  began  to  close  their  shutters.  This 
compelled  an  alteration  in  the  arrangements  for  changing 
horses.  The  drives  were  made  longer,  and  the  relief- 
horses  were  brought  to  us  from  wretched  way-side  barns. 
The  proud  hostlers  had  given  way  to  old  men  in  dirty, 
fluttering  blouses,  who  seemed  as  much  in  need  of  food 


FOGYVILLE  AND   THE  BRANCH.  Jg 

and  rest  as  the  worn-out  horses.  Things  in  the  hotel 
had  also  vastly  changed.  It  was  still  neat  and  clean,  but 
lacked  bustle,  customers,  and  life.  Death,  bankruptcy, 
and  emigration  had  thinned  the  company  in  the  public 
room,  but  the  same  engrossing  topic  was  discussed  with  the 
same  earnestness,  but  with  less  obstinacy,  and  a  little 
more  knowledge  and  experience,  than  before.  Many 
who  had  doubted  with  energy  whether  they  would  ever 
see  a  railroad  within  a  hundred  miles  of  Fogyville,  now 
appealed  to  me  to  know  if  they  had  ever  had  the  slight- 
est misgivings  about  the  ultimate  establishment  and  de- 
velopment of  a  railway  enterprise.  "Major  Ross," 
said  they,  confidentially,  "  had  not  seen  it,  could  not  see 
it  now,  but  they  had  seen  it  all  along." 

Then  came  the  sudden  death  of 'Squire  Jones.  It  oc- 
curred just  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  acceding  to  the 
renewed  offers  of  the  railway  directors,  and  allowing  the 
road  to  come  up  to  the  town. 

Major  Ross,  after  renewed  draughts  of  the  leading 
local  beverage,  declared  the  death  of  'Squire  Jones  a 
splendid  stroke  of  Providence.  The  eyes  connected 
with  the  decaying,  coaching  interest  were  now  turned 
with  anxiety  to  young  Jones,  the  'Squire's  son  and  heir. 
The  anti-railway  interest  had  its  doubts  about  the  young 
man,  and  they  were  well-founded.  Before  the  remains 
of  the  late  lamented  'Squire  Jones  were  decently  cov- 
ered, the  pickaxes  of  the  railway  navigators  were  rooting 
up  the  turf  of  his  sacred  acres.  Major  Ross  could  not 
quite  see  it  yet ! 

Another  period  passed  by,  and  we  arrived  at  last  within 
a  day  of  the  opening  of  the  railway  from  my  country 
town  to  the  metropolis.  In  the  afternoon  of  the  previous 
day  I  took  my  seat  upon  the  box  of  the  "  Lightning 


20  FOGYVILLE  AND    THE  BRANCH. 

Express,"  the  last  coach  of  the  "National  Line."  I 
desired  to  honor  with  my  patronage  the  last  journey  it 
was  intended  to  make. 

Major  Ross  mounted  by  my  side  to  take  the  reins ;  he 
had  been  his  own  coachman  for  many  weary  weeks.  It 
was  no  ordinary  journey.  It  was  a  funeral  of  a  four- 
horse  coach,  performed  by  its  ruined  but  obstinate  pro- 
prietor. As  we  moved  slowly  out  of  Fogyville,  persons 
stood  looking  at  us  with  various  expressions  of  triumph, 
pity,  and  contempt.  Major  Ross  was  well  stimulated 
with  the  leading  local  beverage  at  starting,  and  refreshed 
himself  at  every  opportunity.  The  harness  was  old,  and 
Major  Ross  had  frequently  to  get  down  to  make  repairs. 
We  arrived  in  the  metropolis  three  hours  behind  time. 
We  had  but  two  inside  passengers,  a  pudding-faced  boy 
and  a  dog.  These  were  received  at  our  journey's  end  by 
eight  females  of  various  ages,  sizes,  and  shapes.  They 
made  some  cruel  remarks  to  Major  Ross  about  the  un- 
certainty of  stage  travelling  compared  with  the  railway, 
and  I  retired,  just  as  symptoms  broke  out  of  a  serious 
quarrel.  I  did  not  see  or  hear  anything  of  Major  Ross 
for  some  years.    ' 

I  still  go  down  to  fish  in  the  outskirts  of  my  country 
town.  It  is  much  altered,  and  has  grown  into  a  thriving, 
prosperous  place.  I  get  down  at  a  small,  clean,  Gothic 
station-house,  and  give  my  check  to  the  agent,  who  is 
baggage-man  as  well.  I  recognize  in  him  an  old  coach- 
ing hanger-on,  who  has  gone  over  to  the  enemy.  I  take 
a  seat  in  the  short,  thick  railway  omnibus,  and  jolt  up 
to  my  old  hotel.  One  day,  when  I  arrived  as  usual,  I 
noticed  a  peculiar  expression  in  the  face  of  this  agent 
As  he  took  my  check,  he  said  to  me  confidentially  : 

"  He's  come  back,  sir ! " 


FOGYVILLE  AND    THE  BRANCH. 


21 


"Who,  Dick?"  I  asked. 

"Mister  Ross!" 

As  he  said  this,  he  pointed  to  the  driver's  seat  of  the 
omnibus,  and  glancing  up,  I  saw  the  Major,  looking 
much  older,  with  the  reins  in  his  hand. 

"  He  can  see  it  now,  sir,"  said  the  agent,  quietly. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  he  can  see  it  now,  Dick  :  so  can  we 
aU." 


IV. 


THE   POETRY   OF   THE    RAIL. 


Voices  of  Steam — ' '  Darn  your  Nonsense ! '  '—The  Wine-colored  Gen- 
tleman— A  Corpulent  Man's  Idea  of  the  Poetry  of  the  Rail — A 
Lady's  Idea — The  Commercial  Traveller's  Idea,  etc.,  etc. 

E  used  to  hear  Poetry  sing  in  the  hedges, 
among  flowers,  and  on  the  bosom  of  rippling 
streams.  Now  it  hisses  in  the  boilers  of  Num. 
.  ber  Five,  Erie  Road.  It  is  audible  in  that 
demon  scream — terrible  as  the  shriek  of  death  to  tardy 
travellers,  strolling  animals,  blundering  old  men,  and 
rusty  switches.  Unconsciously  seizing  an  angry  fireman's 
hand  at  Turner's  Junction,  I  exclaim — 

"Voices  of  Steam  !  Ye  are  many-tongued  voices  of  a 
coming  age,  a  golden  one,  perhaps ;  maybe  one  dyed  all 

crimson  with  bl " 

"  Darn  your  nonsense !  "  broke  in  the  genius  of  Num- 
ber Five,  "here's  the  one  twenty-five  starting" — and  I 
went  for  my  ticket.  This  secured,  I  took  a  seat  in  a 
first-class  coach. 

A  wine-colored  gentleman  sat  in  front  of  me  with  a 
bow-window   stomach.     He  was  wrapped  as  if  for  a 


THE  POETRY  OF   THE  RAIL. 


23 


journey  to  the  north  pole,  with  an  apoplectic  voice  that 
forbade  all  conversation.  After  a  treaty  of  legs,  I  fell  to 
musing  on  poetry — by-gone  and  present.  "  You  may  talk 
as  you  like,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  I  believe  it  is  all  here, 
just  as  much  as  ever  it  was." 

"  Listen !  friend  of  the  redundant  stomach  ! " 

"  Oh  !  curse  the  noise;  I  want  to  go  to  sleep.  Here's 
the  Tribune,  wonderful  article  on  the  Mexican  War — 
Great  man,  Polk — splendid  head — of — hair ! " 

"  Snore,  as  thou  wert  wont  to  snore,  O  friend  of  the 
port-wine  countenance  ;  but  know  that  that  sound  of  the 
engine  is  like  the  champ  and  trample  of  a  thousand 
horse.  It  might  be  Tamerlane  riding  to  conquest,  or 
Alaric  thundering  at  the  gates  of  Rome.  Look  out, 
friend  of  the  exuberant  bowels,  and  tell  me  what  you 
see  ! " 

"  A  miserable,  ugly  country,  and  four  iron  rails,  like 
black  lines  ruled  in  my  ledger." 

"  This,  my  friend,  is  the  vision  of  the  son  of  faith.  We 
are  gliding  on  golden  rails,  that  the  sunset  shines  on, 
and  are  just  about  to  thread  an  arch.  As  we  lean  back, 
great  clouds  of  smoke  roll  around  us  and  grow  crimson 
in  the  sunlight,  and  it  seems  as  if  we  were  in  the  car  of 
the  Indian  Mythology,  gliding  away  to  Paradise." 

My  friend  here  presented  his  flask,  with  the  remark, 
"  Stranger,  I  think  you  need  another  drink  ! " 

That  is  a  corpulent  man's  idea  of  the  poetry  of  the 
road. 

I  leave  him  to  apoplexy  and  the  Tribune  newspaper, 
and  move  on  to  a  seat  nearer  the  engine.  Away  we  go, 
with  a  battling  tramp,  and  whistle  and  whiz  past  aston- 
ished laborers  in  green  meadows ;  past  telegraph  wires 
upon  which  sit  wry-necked  sparrows.     The  smoke  of  the 


24        THE  POETRY  OF   THE  RAIL. 

engine  flies  like  a  white  banner,  rolling  away,  stooping 
at  last  to  join  the  white  fog,  that  wingless  sits  and  broods 
about  the  damp  autumn  fields.  We  rush  through  the 
dark  caves  of  the  tunnels — through  the  barrenness  of 
high  and  bare  embankments,  with  the  force  of  a  steam 
catapult,  or  a  huge  case-shot  that  is  never  spent ;  like  a 
battering-ram  on  a  long  race,  for  this  steam-horse  with 
fire  for  blood  never  tires.  Swift  round  curves,  up  low 
hills — swift  by  village  church,  farm-house  and  wood,  over 
the  river,  through  fat  and  lean,  rich  and  poor,  meadow 
and  street — for  this  mad  horse  never  wearies,  never 
tires. 

I  try  another  car,  containing  what  seems  to  be  a  less 
aristocratic  class.  I  find  merriment  here,  and  wayfaring 
people  who  are  less  afraid  to  show  their  honest  feelings. 
They  have  more  feeling,  perhaps,  and  see  more  of  the 
poetry  of  the  Road.  Are  they  listening  with  rapt  ears, 
and  gazing  with  steadfast  eyes  ?  No ;  a  party  with  high 
cheek-bones,  red,  hungry  whiskers,  and  a  Western  accent, 

is  reading,  "  Dreadful  railway  accident  near ;  fifteen 

lives  lost ;  list  of  killed  and  wounded."  I  look  out  and 
wonder  at  the  lightning  fashion  in  which  we  rush  into  the 
tunnel ! 

"  This  train  going  east,  agent  ?  " 

"No;  goin'  west,  ma'am;  there's  the  bell." 

"Why  didn't  you  say  so  before  ?  Oh,  my  bundle,  give 
me  my  bundle  !  " 

"Too  late,  marm ;  next  train  west  at  2.40;  three 
hours  to  wait.     Ladies'  waiting-room  this  way,  marm." 

That  is  a  lady's  ideal  of  railway  poetry. 

On  we  go  again ;  and  presently  the  baggage-man,  in 
half-overalls,  enters  our  car,  and  approaches  the  spruce- 
looking  gentleman  in  the  seat  adjoining  my  own. 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  RAIL.  2$ 

"Over  a  hundred  pounds,  sir;  have  to  charge  you 
extra  baggage  on  that  box." 

"  Extra  charges  !  why,  I've  carried  that  box  of  samples 
with  a  trunk  check  over  every  road  in  the  country." 

"See  here;  that's  too  thin;  you  hand  over  the  extra 
dollar,  or  I'll  dump  that  box  into  the  ditch." 

That's  the  commercial  traveller's  idea  of  the  poetry  of 
the  Road. 

"  Damp  seats,  Lord  help  us !  dusty,  too — this  a  first- 
class  coach — it's  a  stock  car.  Here,  brakeman,  do  you 
call  this  a  coach  ?  Curse  such  a  line — give  me  the  nar- 
row-gauge !  Window  won't  go  up ;  d — n  the  window — 
door  won't  shut;  curse  the  door — draught  above  my 
head  enough  to  drive  a  windmill.  Here — say — what 
does  the  company  mean  by  such  a  draught?  Can't 
smoke  here,  eh  ?     Give  me  the  old  stage-coach,  say  I." 

That  is  the  old  gentleman's  ideal  of  the  poetry  of  the 
Road. 

"  Lord  bless  us,  Betty !  such  a  hissing  and  squeaking 
and  clatter  !  and  that  whistle — like  a  devil's  baby !  Lor* 
sakes,  how  it  went  through  my  poor  head.  An'  then 
getting  out  at  the  wrong  station  to  wait  four  hours  for 
the  next  train.  Say,  Betty,  give  me  the  old  oxen  and 
wagon  at  home  ! " 

That  is  the  rural  lady's  idea  of  the  poetry  of  the  Road. 

"Ah,  sir,"  said  an  old  gentleman,  roaring  the  words  in 
my  ear,  "ah,  sir,  I  remember,  when  I  was  a  boy,  being 
three  days  and  nights  on  a  journey  that  you  do  now  in 
four  hours.  Those  were  the  times,  sir,  the  happy  times. 
No  hurry-scurry;  no  chopping  up  decent  people  with 
trains  ;  no  gambling  in  railway  shares,  with  all  the  bully- 
ing and  bearing  you  hear  of  to-day ;  no — dear  me — such 
jolting— one  can  neither  sit  nor  stand — "  and  the  sudden 
8 


26        THE  POETRY  OF   THE  RAIL. 

stoppage  actually  threw  the  old  gentleman  into  the  lap 
of  a  spinster  near  by. 

"Sakes  alive!  Mercy  on  us!  Conductor!  brake- 
man  !  take  him  off;  the  villain  is  crushing  a  poor,  inno- 
cent female ! " 

And  this  is  the  ideal  of  the  poetry  of  the  Road  these 
ancient  people  take  to  their  homes. 

They  will  not  hear  me,  if  I  say  I  saw  poetry  in  the 
life  of  the  engineer  or  fireman.  On  rough  days,  say, 
when  he  cowers  behind  his  screen,  and  looks  out  long 
and  steadily  through  the  rain  and  storm.  A  divinity  ? 
Bless  you,  no !  No  Diomed  or  Hector,  but  plain  Mart 
Mason,  of  Number  Five,  Erie  Road.  Every  crimson 
star  that  shines  at  stations  is  as  familiar  to  him  as  the 
shining  taps  his  fireman  keeps  so  bright  and  clean. 
Every  emerald  fire,  and  white  circle,  and  red  globe,  and 
all  the  silent  voices  that  speak  from  headquarters  to  the 
brave  men  on  the  Road.  When  the  great  wind  blows, 
and  the  lightnings  flash,  he  grasps  that  handle  or  throttle 
there,  and  you  know  that  power  and  courage  and  skill  are 
at  the  helm.  Firmly  he  holds  that  helm  on  those  noisy 
nights,  and  drives  his  strong,  swift  steam-ship  on  its  flam- 
ing path,  scattering  the  red-hot  ashes  of  its  wrath,  as  it 
ploughs  on  and  on.  If  the  rain  drives  its  liquid  arrows  at 
him,  while  you  survey  the  storm  from  a  comfortable  seat, 
he  only  wipes  his  great  spectacles,  and  looks  out  ahead. 
Then  he  screws  the  engine  up  till  it  gives  a  shriek  of 
pain — a  long,  startling  scream,  that  wakes  up  the  sleepers 
in  the  next  town,  makes  them  mutter,  only  to  turn  again 
to  slumber. 

Perhaps  the  sense  of  novelty  and  poetry  has  left  rail- 
roads forever,  and  the  humble  pen  that  attempts  to  re- 
cord it  now  may  have  only  its  labor  for  its  pains.    The 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  RAIL.  27 

sight  of  a  train  growing  out  of  a  cloud  of  smoke,  the 
terror  of  its  march,  and  the  battling  of  its  rush,  have 
grown  familiar  now.  The  obedient  readiness  of  a  train 
is  now  a  thing  of  course.  The  propulsion  of  lightning, 
the  comet  speed,  the  strange  contrast  of  such  spiritual 
power,  controlled  by  a  soiled  fellow  in  overalls — Caliban 
ruling  Ariel — is  lost  sight  of  now  by  the  great  busy  world 
that  is  so  grossly  sunk  in  its  six  per  cents. 

Would  it  not  be  better  for  us  to  do  good,  to  be  kindly 
and  open-hearted  ;  to  see  some  poetry  in  life,  and  not  call 
the  air  blue  fog,  and  the  rose  a  vegetable?  If  that 
railway  whistle  could  have  been  interpreted  to  you  by  an 
angel,  you  might  have  known  that  its  meaning  was  as 
prophetic  and  dreadful  as  the  Judgment  trumpet. 

Wake  up,  then  !  unlock  your  cellar,  and  send  a  dozen 
of  port  to  the  brave  engineer  who  risked  his  life  to  save  the 
train  that  was  bearing  you  to  wife  and  little  ones.  And 
a  substantial  tribute  to  the  brakeman,  who  leaped  from 
the  train  and  turned  the  switch  on  that  awful  night  in 
September.  Do  something  for  the  widow's  son,  while 
the  father  lies  a  mangled  corpse  at  the  scene  of  the  re- 
cent accident.  Above  all,  look  reverently  henceforth  at 
all  railroad  men,  of  whatever  station — and  peace  be  with 
you. 


V. 

EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE   RAIL. 

AMONG  THE  ENGINEERS  AND  FIREMEN. 

A  Much-abused  Class — At  the  Round  House — Engineers'  Gossip — 
Anecdotes  and  Incidents — Personal  Adventures — Romance  and 
Humor — A  Joke  on  Bristol — Manning  and  the  Deaf  Man — Carter 
and  the  Collector — A  Narrow  Escape — "Me  Pay  Pilot,  'ven  you 
Pay  Pig  " — Two  Disciples  of  Munchausen — Stedman's  Black  Cat 
—  Mort  Thompson — Charlie  Burlingame's  Sermon — "Dutch 
Jake"  and  Princeton  Bill — Patty  on  the  Pilot — A  Ride  for  Life — 
A  Song — A  Female  Fireman — A  Rhyme  of  the  Rail — The  Dying 
Engineer — Flow  Buxton  got  up  Steam — The  English  Engineer — 
The  Locomotive — An  Acrostic. 

CONFESS  that  I  have  long  entertained  an  in- 
dulgent feeling  towards  several  classes  of  men 
who  are  dealt  hardly  with  by  common  report ; 
these  are  hackmen,  baggage-men,  conductors 
of  street-cars,  and  railroad  men  generally.  While  I  am 
willing  to  admit  that  these  fraternities  contain  their  pro- 
portion of  black  sheep,  I  am  not  aware  of  any  peculiar 
contagion  attaching  to  their  dinginess.  I  cannot  believe 
that  the  extra  coat  of  soot  so  freely  laid  on  by  that  ex- 
travagant colorist — Public  Opinion — can  be  justified  by 
appeal  to  any  ordinary  models.  Few  realize,  perhaps, 
the  extent  to  which  they  think  evil  of  good  neighbors 


EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL.  29 

and  industrious  public  servants.  Hackman  1006  oc- 
casionally uses  language  which  he  regards  as  merely- 
vigorous  and  forcible  rhetoric — or  endeavors  on  strictly 
commercial  principles  to  enhance  the  price  paid  for  his 
exertions. 

A  railway  conductor  invites  an  impecunious  passenger 
to  leave  the  car  at  a  certain  station,  and  learns  with 
horror  that  he  has  insulted  a  village  alderman  returning 
from  a  metropolitan  debauch.  Or  a  brakeman  refuses 
a  single  gentleman  admission  to  the  ladies'  car,  and  is 
reported  for  rudeness  to  an  embryo  Congressman.  An 
engineer,  running  a  "wild"  engine  out  to  some  wreck, 
refuses  to  take  a  brace  of  pedestrians  into  his  cab,  and 
he  is  called  up  to  answer  the  complaints  of  some  agricul- 
tural committee.  Devotion  to  rules  and  instructions 
brings  these  persons  before  their  self-constituted  enemies 
in  an  unenviable  light,  and  straightway  all  hackmen  and 
railway  men  are  condemned. 

I  once  attended  a  popular  lecture  upon  temperance, 
illustrated  by  numerous  highly  colored  prints  represent- 
ing, or  professing  to  represent,  the  stomachs  of  drunkards. 

The  theory  appeared  to  be,  that  redness  is  the  greatest 
of  all  evils,  and  the  stomachs  depicted  became  redder 
and  redder — from  the  rose-colored  blush  attached  to 
that  bane  of  teetotalism,  the  moderate  drinker,  up  to 
the  rubicundity,  at  once  deep  and  bright,  discovered  in  a 
man  who  had  died  of  delirium  tremens.  At  this  point 
there  still  remained  a  stomach  unaccounted  for — one  far 
redder  than  the  rest.  The  intensely  vivid  scarlet  of  its 
centre  passed  gradually  into  maroon  on  one  side,  into 
purple  on  the  other.  There  was  no  inscription  to  show 
the  potatory  sins  which  had  been  followed  by  such  signal 
punishment. 


3Q 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


At  last  the  lecturer  pointed  his  wand  towards  this  ap- 
palling object.  The  expectant  audience  was  hushed 
into  breathless  silence.  A  pin  might  have  been  heard 
to  drop. 

"This,  ladies  and  gentlemen" — very  slowly  and  delib- 
erately uttered,  as  if  in  enjoyment  of  our  suspense;  "this, 
as  I  may  say,  heart-rending  diagram  presents  to  you  a 
faithful  and  accurate  delineation  of" — pausing  again,  "  a 
railroad-man's  stomach  ! "  And  then,  giving  time  only 
for  the  expiatory  sounds,  and  for  the  rustle  of  subdued 
but  general  movement  which  accompany  the  release  of 
an  assembly  from  highly  wrought  attention,  he  proceeded 
to  denounce  those  persons  who,  by  riding  on  railways,  af- 
forded to  the  attaches  thereof  the  means  of  rubifying 
their  digestive  organs. 

I  am  not  prepared  to  say  as  to  the  effect  he  produced 
upon  others,  but  for  myself,  I  was  sufficiently  struck  by 
the  injustice  of  the  sweeping  accusation  which  the  words 
conveyed,  to  turn  with  no  small  disgust  from  the  glib  fa- 
natic through  whose  lips  they  passed.  From  this  small 
incident,  I  date  the  origin  of  an  involuntary  regard,  since 
confirmed  by  many  incidents,  for  a  worthy  class  who  have 
suffered  unduly  in  the  estimation  of  their  fellow-men.  I 
am  always  ready  to  defend  them  from  so  silly  a  charge, 
for  it  should  be  known,  that  no  person  given  to  excessive 
indulgence  in  any  of  the  small  vices,  can  find  employ- 
ment to-day  in  any  department  of  the  railway  service. 
There  are  black  sheep  now  and  then,  as  we  confess  fur- 
ther on  in  these  pages,  but  these  are  exceptions  to  the 
rule.  There  are  traces  of  the  Divine  hand  of  the  Creator 
in  us  all.  Whether  we  look  upward  or  downward  in  so- 
ciety, if  we  will  only  see  each  other  rightly,  we  can  come 
to  no  truer  conclusion,  than  that  men  are  good  fellows 


EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL. 

in  the  main  The  bond  of  fellowship  clips  all  society 
together  and  is  a  law  of  Nature,  much  more  power  J 
than  all  the  laws  of  all  the  lands. 

With   these   paragraphs  by  way  of    introduction,  the 
reader  1S  invited  to  mingle  with  the  men  of  the  Road  at 
heir  various  places  of  rendezvous.     We  will  hear  them 
utf n   T  ^Ven;UreS.and  sPin  th^ir  yarns  in  the  vernac 
£^^^*^*^«" 
Engineers  and  firemen  are  wont  to  sun  themselves, 
when  off  duty,  at  the  Turn-Table  or  in  the  Round-House 
and  it  is  not  uncommon  to  find  a  score  of  these  brave 
fellows  gathered  at  a  single  sitting.     A  majority  are  off 
duty,  a  few  may  be  waiting  to  «go  on,"  but  there  is  al- 
ways time  for  a  yarn,  and  some  one  to  tell  it      If  there 
are  no  t  bl     tQ       ^  a  ^  ^  .^  ^  ^ 

The  better  class  of  engineers  begin  life  as  apprentices  in 
the  shop,  and  developing  into  master  machinists,  go  into 
he  cab   familiar  with  every  part  of  a  locomotive,  and 
thoroughly  trained  in  the  method  of  its  construction. 
They  are   regular   subscribers   to   the   various   publica- 
tions that  issue  in  the  interest  of  their  branch  of  the  ser 
vice,  and,  as  a  general  thing,  keep  themselves  well  un- 
formed as  to  current  events.     The  fireman,  who  goes 
through  a  severe  apprenticeship,  with  the  hope  of  some 
day  getting  an  engine  of  his  own,  is  usually  much  attach- 
ed to  Ins  engineer,  and  the  two  are  inseparable  compan- 
ions.    He  has  little  time  for  intellectual  cultivation,  and 
^  given  to  reading  at  all,  rarely  gets  beyond  his  local 
paper,  or  the  cheap  sensational  novel.     But  his  brasses 
must  shine,  and  his  rods  glisten,  though  even  food  and 
rest  have  to  be  ignored.     Both  engineer  and  fireman  be- 
come much  attached  to  their  engine,  and  usually  christen 


32 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON"  THE  RAIL. 


it  with  some  pet  name,  by  which  it  becomes  known  all 
over  the  line.  They  vest  it  with  human  faculties,  and 
not  unfrequently  expect  it  to  give  evidence  of  reciprocal 
affection.  The  confidence  of  the  engineer  in  his  loco- 
motive is  of  the  same  character  as  that  which  binds  the 
lover  to  his  sweetheart,  and  he  will  follow  it,  in  time  of 
danger,  with  the  most  heroic  devotion. 

The  author  finds  human  nature  very  much  the  same 
on  all  roads,  and  everyday  life  on  the  Road  strikingly 
similar  on  all  the  leading  lines.  The  groups,  therefore, 
that  he  has  gathered,  are  composed  of  representative  men 
of  many  leading  lines  of  railway,  the  names  and  charac- 
ters being  genuine  in  every  instance. 

"  I  used  to  run  a  locomotive,"  said  Bristol,^"  on  a  road 
branching  out  from  the  C,  H.  &  D.  at  Hamilton,  Ohio, 
and  running  into  Indiana.  John  Lincoln  was  superintend- 
ent, but  I've  forgotten  what  they  called  that  line.  Po- 
dunk  was  on  that  road,  a  town  in  Posey  County,  not  un- 
known to  fame.  Stopping  there  one  night,  I  noticed  two 
green-looking  countrymen  inspecting  the  locomotive,  and 
giving  vent  to  expressions  of  astonishment.  Finally,  one 
of  them  looked  up  to  me,  and  said  : 

"'Stranger,  are  this  a  lokymotive  ?' 

" '  Yes ;  didn't  you  ever  see  one  before  ? ' 

"'Haven't  never  seed  one  afore.  Me  'n  Tom  come 
down  to  the  station  to-night,  puppuss  to  see  one.  This 
is  the  feller,  ain't  he?' 

"  '  Certainly.' 

"  '  What  yer  call  that  yer  in  now  ? ' 

"  'We  call  this  the  cab,  and  that's  the  driving  wheel.' 

" '  That  black  thing  yonder 's  the  chimney,  'spose  ? ' 

" '  Yes,  that's  the  chimney.' 

"  '  Be  you  the  engineer  what  runs  the  merchine  ? ' 


EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL.  33 

" '  I  am  the  engineer.' 

"  '  Tom,'  said  the  fellow  to  his  mate,  after  eying  me 
closely  for  a  few  minutes,  *  it  don't  take  much  of  a  man 
to  be  an  engineer,  do  it  ?  ' 
"That  joke  was  on  me." 

"  I  came  over  from  Liverpool,"  said  Manning,  when 
the  laughter  had  subsided,  "and  gets  a  engine  on  the 
York  Central.  A  bit  of  a  accident  'appened  at  the  other 
end  of  the  line  one  day ;  that  is  to  say,  I  run  my  engine 
over  a  very  respectable  gentleman  of  the  neighborhood. 
When  I  gits  to  the  end  of  my  run,  seems  like  everybody 
in  the  town  was  at  the  depot  to  bother  me  with  ques- 
tions. I  don't  say  what  town  it  was,  as  how  I  don't 
want  to  offend  no  man's  feelins.  One  old  gentleman 
'arassed  me  very  much,  and  wouldn't  take  no  hexcuse, 
so,  good-natured  like,  I  told  him  as  how  it  was. 

"'I  seed  the  old  gentleman  upon  the  line,'  says  I, 
1  walking  along  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  about  'alf  a 
mile  ahead,  quite  comfortable,  and  I  dare  say  thinking  o' 
nothink  like— certainly,  not  of  me,  behind  him,  coming 
along  with  a  couple  of  thousand  tons  at  forty  miles  the 
hour.     So  I  whistles  away  merrily — ' 

"  'Good  heavens!'  cried  my  listener,  'do  you  tell  me 
that  you  whistled  when  a  fellow-creature  was  placed  in 
circumstances  of  such  imminent  peril  ? ' 

"  « I  made  my  engine  whistle,'  I  hexplained.  *  I  often 
speaks  of  the  engine  as  if  it  was  me,  sir.  I  shrieked,  I 
say,  in  a  manner  as  was  a  caution  to  cats ;  but  not  a  bit 
would  the  old  gent  get  out  of  the  way  or  turn  his  head, 
by  which  means,  I  can't  help  thinking  ever  since,  that 
he  was  somehow  deaf.  We  reversed,  put  our  brake  on, 
and  turned  off  our  steam,  but  bless  ye,  it  was  ne'er  a 
morsel  of  use,  for  we  couldn't  have  pulled  up  under  a 
3* 


34 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


mile  at  least,  and  just  as  we  neared  him,  the  poor  old 
gent  turned  round  and  threw  up  his  arms  like  this — ' 

"  '  Gracious  goodness,  my  good  man,'  says  my  listener, 
'  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  ran  hover  'im  ? ' 

" '  Lof  bless  ye,  sir,  why  of  course  we  did.  We  was 
down  upon  'im  in  a  minute,  like  one  o'clock  ! ' 

"  The  crowd  was  awful  still  now  till  a  young  commer- 
cial traveller  observed  quite  dryly — 

"  '  Yes,  sir ;  the  incident  as  which  you  have  so  graphi- 
cally described,  'appened  to  my  uncle.' 

"My  old  listener  wiped  the  spersperation  from  the 
top  o'  his  'ead. 

"  '  He  was  killed,  of  course  ? '  he  says. 

"  '  No.  The  hentire  train  passed  over  'im,  merely  re- 
moving the  skin  from  the  top  of  his  nose.  The  engine 
threw  him  on  his  back  between  the  rails,  into  a  hollow 
part  of  the  ballast.  If  he  hadn't  been  deaf,  he  would 
perhaps  have  gone  mad  with  the  noise.' " 

"My  name  is  Carter,  and  I  am  an  engineer  on  the 
Rondout  and  Oswego  Road.  I  was  bringing  in  the  east- 
ward-bound train  not  long  since,  and  stopped  at  Shokan. 
I  don't  know  what  was  up,  but  the  Collector  of  the  town 
was  on  hand  with  a.  posse  of  men  and  a  chain,  to  prevent 
the  train  proceeding  any  further.  The  chain  was  passed 
through  the  back  end  of  the  rear  car,  but  before  it  could 
be  fastened  to  anything  substantial,  I  got  wind  of  how 
matters  stood.  I  threw  the  throttle  wide  open  and 
started  the  train  with  a  jump.  The  effect  on  that  Col- 
lector's posse  was  the  same  as  that  on  the  Indians  who 
attempted  to  capture  a  train  on  the  Pacific  Road  with  a 
lariat." 

"  On  a  certain  Tuesday  in  the  year  1871,  the  down 
train  on  the   Bangor  and  Piscataquis  Road  was  being 


EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL.  35 

made  up  at  Oldtown  for  connection  with  the  E.  and  N. 
A.  train.  A  locomotive  of  the  former  line  was  moving 
quite  swiftly  at  a  short  distance  from  the  depot.  My 
name  is  Watford — Jack  Watford,  and  I  was  in  charge  of 
that  locomotive.  A  lad  about  seven  years  of  age  walked 
into  the  centre  of  the  track,  unconscious  of  the- approach- 
ing engine.  Busy  with  my  inside  brasses  at  the  time, 
and  moving,  as  I  thought,  merely  at  a  depot  pace,  I 
failed  to  keep  an  eye  ahead.  The  locomotive  came 
rushing  along,  and  the  bystanders,  horrified  at  the  peril 
of  the  boy,  shouted  wildly  to  him  to  run.  The  discovery 
of  his  peril  seemed  to  paralyze  his  limbs,  and  terror 
seemed  to  root  him  to  the  spot.  I  looked  out  now — 
saw  the  trouble,  and  shut  off,  but  it  was  too  late.  Just 
as  the  engine  reached  the  lad,  a  young  man  rushed  from 
the  crowd  to  the  rescue.  He  seized  the  boy  as  the  pilot 
of  the  locomotive  was  within  a  few  feet  of  the  spot ; 
threw  him  by  main  force  to  the  platform  beside  the  rails, 
and  by  a  mighty  effort  sprang,  almost  at  the  same  time, 
clear  of  the  track,  apparently  grazing  the  front  of  the 
engine  as  it  thundered  by.  The  cheers  which  greeted 
his  humane  achievement  were  well  deserved.  The  brave 
fellow  who  performed  this  noble  act  is  a  young  man 
named  Luther  Soaper,  still  living  in  Oldtown,  Maine, 
about  eighteen  years  of  age.  I  need  not  tell  you  why 
I  shall  never  forget  either  his  name  or  the  brave  deed." 

"  Talking  about  pilots,"  says  Crotter,  "  that  reminds 
me  of  one.  Jauriet  is  master  mechanic  of  the  Chicago, 
Burlington,  and  Quincy  Road,  stationed  at  Chicago,  Illi- 
nois. He  is  of  French  extraction,  one  of  the  most  ac- 
complished machinists  in  the  country,  and  the  inventor 
of  many  valuable  improvements  in  the  locomotive. 
'Ditto'  is  the  pet  name  of  an  engineer  on  the  road, 


36  EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL. 

also  of  French  descent.  One  time  '  Ditto '  sold  two 
pigs  to  Jauriet,  but  never  received  his  pay.  Well,  along 
came  Jauriet' s  order  that  every  engineer  should  pay  for 
every  pilot  he  broke.  Two  years  after  the  sale  of  the 
pigs,  '  Ditto '  went  into  Chicago  with  a  broken  pilot,  and 
the  '  old  man '  hinted  at  the  pay.  '  Ditto,'  who  was  al- 
ways able  to  pilot  his  own  canoe,  replied — 

"  '  Me  pay  pilot  ven  you  pay  pig  ! '  " 

Two  of  the  most  incorrigible  disciples  of  Munchausen 
the  author  has  met  in  his  travels,  are  now  to  be  found  on 
this  same  C,  B.  &  Q.  Road.  These  are  the  engineers 
Stedman  and  "  Doc."  Merriman.  These  men  have  had 
many  a  tilt  in  the  way  of  spinning  yarns,  but  the  boys  are 
as  yet  unable  to  decide  to  whom  the  ribbon  belongs. 

"  Doc,  how  about  that  fast  time  on  the  B.  &  M.  ?  I 
heard  of  it,  when  I  was  running  into  Albany." 

"  Well,  the  '  old  man  '*  came  to  me,  and  says  he,  '  Cap, 
can  you  make  it  ? '  " 

"  '  I  kin,  if  the  wheels  '11  stick  on,'  says  I. 

" '  Go  ahead  then,'  says  he,  '  and  I'll  get  on  the  way- 
car.' 

"  I  looked  behind  after  I  let  her  out,  and  saw  his  coat- 
tails  sticking  straight  out,  and  he  standing  on  the  hind 
steps.  When  we  reached  the  down  grade,  the  trucks 
came  off  the  hind  end  of  the  way-car,  but  we  never 
stopped  !  I  made  it,  and  the  old  man  said  it  was  the  best 
time  ever  made  on  that  road  ! " 

"  What  kept  the  hind  end  of  that  car  up,  boy  ?  "  asked 
Stedman. 

"  Well,  you  see,  we  was  going  so  fast,  that  the  wind 
held  her  up  all  the  way  ! " 

*  This  term  is  always  applied  to  the  head  of  any  department. 


EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL. 


37 


"  Just  so,"  rejoined  '  Sted ; '  "  that  reminds  me  of  our 
old  black  cat.  She  had  twenty-two  lives.  She  used  to 
go  down  in  the  cellar  and  lick  up  all  the  old  woman's 
cream.  I  thought  I  had  her  killed  once  or  twice,  but 
she  managed  to  come  round  again." 

"  Which?  "  inquired  Doc;  "  the  old  woman  ?  " 

"  No,  you  limping  fool !  the  old  black  cat.  Well, 
finally  I  broke  her  to  pieces  one  day  against  the  cellar 
wall,  so, she  couldn't  come  together  again,  and  buried  her 
in  an  old  pile  of  rotten  hay,  near  where  some  corn  and 
punkins  were  planted.  Next  spring  the  corn  came  up 
and  the  punkins  got  ripe.  One  morning  the  old  woman 
went  down  in  the  cellar  for  her  cream,  and  there  was  the 
black  cat,  licking  away  as  though  she  hadn't  lost  a  day  ! 
There  was  a  little  of  the  rotten  hay  sticking  to  her  yet, 
and  out  of  her  body  there  protruded — " 

"  There  what  ?  "  interrupted  Doc. 

"  Out  of  her  body  hung  a  punkinvine,  and  a  little  ways 
off  was  a  punkin.  Further  along  on  that  vine  was 
another  punkin,  and  then  another,  and  so  on  all  the  way 
out  to  that  hay  pile  !  " 

"  Say,  Sted,  how  fur  was  it  to  that  hay  pile  ?" 

"Well,  I  didn't  measure,  but  I  should  judge  about  a 
mile  /  " 

"  Doc."  got  down  on  his  game  leg,  pulled  off  his  cap, 
and  said  with  warmth — 

"Sted,  that's  an  infernal  lie  /J '" 

Charlie  Clark,  an  old  U.  P.  man,  but  now  on  the 
North  Missouri,  said  they  used  to  have  "  Doc's  "  match 
out  that  way.  He  wouldn't  locate  him  exactly,  now  that 
the  poor  fellow  was  off,  but  if  the  boys  had  no  objection, 
he  would  read  them  a  rhyme,  from  which  they  could 
judge  for  themselves. 


38  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL 

MORT  THOMPSON. 

AN  ENGINEER'S  RHYME. 

"  Time  against  the  Pass'nger  ! 

No,  but  what's  the  odds ; 
Fifteen  minutes  yet,  you  know, 

I'll  make  it,  by  the  gods. 
Throw  off  the  brakes,  my  Sanders, 

Fill  us  a  quart,  my  lout ; 
Isn't  old  Sixty  lovely, 

She'll  jerk  it  for  all  that's  out. 

"  You're  mighty  right,  old  pardner, 

She's  never  gin  out  as  yet ; 
'  Up  grade,'  you  say,  my  hearty, 

Well,  what  have  you  got  to  bet  ? 
'Orders,' — damn  the  orders; 

The  fifteen  ticks  is  mine  ; 
Fill  up  her  belly,  Sanders, 

And  fetch  us  a  drink  o'  brine.* 

"Bully  for  you,  that's  lightning, 

Engineer's  steam,  you  know; 
Afeerd  !  get  up,  you  scoundrel, 

Or  I'll  split  you  through  and  througl . 
Here's  to  you,  my  old  sweetheart, 

Now  take  a  good  long  breath ; 
More  fire,  my  lovely  Sanders, 

Why,  you  look  as  pale  as  death. 

"  That's  business,  eh  ?  my  Sanders, 

Hear,  how  she  counts  the  rails ; 
'Five  minutes,'  well,  we'll  make  it, 

Old  Sixty  never  fails. 
Here,  take  your  brine,  you  coward, 

How  far  to  the  crossing  now  ? 
All  right ;   we'll  take  the  chances 

For  a  fun'ral  or  a  row. 

*  Brine.— The  slang  name  for  liquor. 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


39 


"  What  !  only  one  more  minute  ! 
Well,  I've  got  another  notch ; 
You  say  you  heard  'em  whistle- 
More  fire,  you  onery  botch- 
There  now,  old  Sixty's  got  it, 

Got  the  throttle,  sleek  and'clean  ; 
Yer— shove  us  that  ere  bottle; 
What's  the  use  in  bein'  mean? 

"  We  picked  him  up,  some  dozen  rods 

From  where  the  two  trains  struck, 
Some  twenty  killed,  I  think ;   and  me, 

Well,  that,  you  see,  was  luck. 
I  got  his  place,  as  was  the  rule, 

When  Mort  went  on  the  she'lf ; 
A  splendid  Engineer  he  was, 

But  couldn't  gauge  himself." 

"  If  it's  a  sermon,  Charlie,  make  it  short  rnr  ;„  .       . 
minutes  I  must  take  old  no  North  »  ^ 

Olno  and  Mississippi  nJ  TSedfo^  ZLZZ 
and  he  taught  me  all  I  know  about  a  locomotive 

It  was  common  to  drink  at  every  station  in  those  davs 

:.  tttte  ,mofWLVeryHenta0sf 'f  "T  ^  «~ 
*>*-,  hoth  ^  one  £Z££Z£?& 


40  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

I  was  a  little  sweet  on  the  big  one,  and  I  believe  Jim 
thought  the  road  was  clear,  but — well,  let  me  tell  it  my 
own  way. 

"  We  got  to  thinking  seriously  about  this  brine  business 
at  last,  and  one  evening  the  little  girl  asked  Jim  and  me 
to  go  to  a  temperance  meeting  in  the  town  where  we 
both  lived.  We  laughed  at  the  idea  at  first,  but  to  humor 
his  little  pet,  the  father  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  we 
were  all  soon  seated  in  the  church. 

"The  address  was  about  individual  influence,  and  point- 
ing right  at  us  he  said  :  '  The  little  girl  sitting  on  the 
workingman's  knee  in  front  of  me,  even  she  has  influ- 
ence ! '  Jim,  as  if  acting  under  some  sort  of  a  spell,  jumped 
on  his  legs,  put  the  child  on  the  floor,  and  then  striking 
his  hand  against  his  thigh,  exclaimed,  '  Thats  true  I ' 
Then,  embarrassed  at  what  he  had  done,  took  his  seat, 
put  the  little  girl  again  on  his  knee,  and  listened  atten- 
tively to  the  speaker.  Everybody  was  taken  aback,  of 
course,  and  some  thought  he  was  drunk,  but  I  knew  they 
would  never  have  a  chance  to  say  that  of  Jim  Styles 
again. 

"Well,  the  meeting  broke  up,  and  a  good  many  ladies 
came  to  kiss  Jim's  little  girl.  I  pulled  out  a- ways,  for,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  boys,  I  wasn't  used  to  such  scenes. 
After  a  bit,  the  lecturer  came  to  Jim,  and  asked  him  what 
made  him  act  so  in  the  meeting. 

" '  I  am  an  engineer  on  your  road  here,'  said  Jim ; 
'and  when  I  had -the  South  run,  I  used  to  go  for  my 
brine  every  night,  and  seldom  returned  sober.  I  had  a 
daughter  then,  about  eighteen  years  old,  a  dutiful  child, 
with  a  warm  and  affectionate  heart.  She  used  to  come 
after  me  to  the  beer-shop,  and  wait  outside  the  door  in  the 
cold  and  wet  until  I  came  out,  that  she  might  conduct 


EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL.  4| 

m  tT  ■  She  TOS  afraM' if  kft  to  mT*lf,  that  I  migh, 

a,      s  edied'^nff  TJ  ?  ^  <°  ™ ^ 
went  to  rt,  „      dea*  Ve,y  mUch>  th0«gh  I  stil 

vent  to  the  saloon.     But  somehow  or  other,  I  never  liked 
go  that  way  alone  after  she  died,  especiali;  in  h    „„,  t 
and  for  he  sake  of  company,  I  „sed  to  take  with  mete 
toe  glrI  whom  you  sw  ™e  the 

*=  httlegul,  she  holding  by  my  coat-tail ;  and  when  we 
fn   rS  'he,  Sf°0n:  '""ag-t  «"hta 

into  I"  1    °Ug,U  him  ',is  en«iM  «xt  morning  he  aot 
into  the  cab  with  n  «/»««  ;     1  •    ,       ,         JllllJg>  "e  got 

he   'take  fh»f       ai         P  S  hand     <CI^rlie,'  says 

ne,    take  that,  and  learn  it  by  heart.'  " 

"FATHER,  DON'T   GO   IN! 
"A  father  bore  upon  his  arm 
A  girl  of  tender  years ; 
She  shivered  sadly  with  the  cold; 
Her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"I  paused  to  see  why  she  should  weep— 
A  girl  so  young  and  fair— 
And  why  her  father  wore  a  look 
Of  horror  or  despair. 

"  I  did  not  need  to  tarry  lono- 
Her  tears  to  understand," 
For  on  the  gin-shop's  half-shut  door 
The  father  laid  his  hand. 


42  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

**  Loud  was  the  wintry  wind  without, 
Loud  was  the  noise  within ; 
But  o'er  them  all  I  heard  her  words, 
*  O  father,  don't  go  in  ! ' 

"  He  turned  him  sternly  from  the  door, 
And  strode  along  the  street. 
Thanking  his  young  deliverer 
With  words  and  kisses  sweet. 

"  Strong  were  the  few  and  gentle  words 
The  little  girl  did  speak ; 
But  stronger  far  the  silent  tear 
That  trickled  down  her  cheek  ! " 

"Dutch  Jake"  is  the  railroad  name  of  a  Teutonic 
engineer  on  a  certain  Pennsylvania  road  that  must  be 
nameless  here.  "  Princeton  Bill "  is  the  name  of  a 
worthy  Scotchman,  who  attends  the  switches  at  an  im- 
portant point  on  the  same  road.  He  has  been  there 
ever  since  the  road  was  built.  A  paralytic  attack,  or 
something  of  that  sort,  has  affected  the  hinges  of  his  jaw, 
and  they  work  poorly.  He  can  get  up  steam  easy 
enough,  but  his  rods  are  too  tight.  There  is  a  heap  of 
lost  motion  on  the  part  of  the  jaws,  before  he  gets  a 
word  out,  and  when  it  comes,  it  comes  with  a  jerk. 
"  Dutch  Jake,"  on  the  other  hand,  stutters ;  his  tongue 
always  gets  in  the  way  when  he  talks,  especially  when  he 
is  excited.  Jake  first  met  Bill  when  the  latter  was  fixing 
a  switch  to  let  his  train  in.  Bill  attempted  to  tell  Jake 
that  there  were  some  cars  to  take  on  there.  The  jaws 
struggled,  the  mouth  was  all  at  sea,  and  the  tongue  forgot 
its  cunning.  Jake  gazed  first  with  awe,  and  hearing  no 
articulate  sound,  imagined  that  the  switchman  was  ridi- 
culing his  own  infirmity.     Boiling  with  rage,  he  set  out  to 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  43 

reply.  "  W— w— w— m— m— m— "  was  as  far  as  he 
could  get.  His  face  red  with  the  rushing  blood,  his 
lips  kept  moving,  but  not  a  word  escaped.  Bill  replied 
in  the  same  strain,  after  another  "exhaust"  or  two. 
Jake  was  finally  emptied  of  this  struggling  sentence  : 

«W—w—w/iat  i— i— in  t— t— th— Joinder's  m— m— 
mat — ter  m — m — mit  you  ?  " 

Bill  was  sure  Jake  was  mocking  him,  and  went  for 
him  with  both  hands.  If  the  boys  had  not  interfered, 
there  would  have  been  a  serious  fight,  for  both  were 
stalwart  men.  As  it  was,  the  scene  was  funny  in  the 
extreme. 

"  My  name  is  George  Guernsey,  and  I  am  an  engi- 
neer on  the  East  Tennessee,  Virginia,  and  Georgia  Rail- 
road.    My  fireman's  name  is  Joe  Patty,  and  we  both  live 
at  Morristown,  Tennessee.     Joe  is  just  getting  well  of 
his  injuries,  and  we  think  we  can  beat  that  pilot  yarn 
one,  anyhow.     On  a  Sunday  night,  in  February,   1872, 
we  were  coming  in  with  the  passenger  train,  due  at  Dal- 
ton  at  7:33  o'clock,  p.m.     When  within  a  mile  of  that 
village,  Patty  went  forward  to  the  front  of  the  engine,  to 
oil  the  valves  of  the  steam-chest ;  and  just  as  he  reached 
the  proper  place  on  the  bumper,  a  beam  to  which  the 
'cow-catcher'  is  attached,  the  engine  came  in  contact 
with  a  cow.     The  force  of  the  train  threw  the  cow  upon 
the  beam  on  which  Patty  was  standing  with  his  back  to 
the  cow,  and  his  face  fronting  the  cab.     The  shock  threw 
him  off  his  feet,  but  having  a  firm  grasp  upon  a  brace,  he 
held  on  with  the  tenacity  of  a  drowning  man.     He  suc- 
ceeded in  maintaining  his  firm  grip,  until,  with  the  use  of 
his  other  hand,  he  regained  his  position.    The  cow,  in  the 
meantime,  had  fallen  off  into  the  ditch,  dead.     Patty's 
right  shoulder  and  breast  were  badly  bruised,  and  the 


44  EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON"  THE  RAIL. 

palm  of  his  right  hand  cut  entirely  across.     I  call  that 
a  fearful  ride." 

"  I  think  I  can  beat  it,"  said  Curry,  "with  one  of  the 
most  thrilling  railroad  incidents  on  record.  It  was  liter- 
ally a  Ride  for  Life.  It  occurred  on  the  Oregon  and 
California  Road,  between  the  cities  of  Portland  and 
Salem.  I  had  charge  of  the  down  train,  and  we  ap- 
proached the  station  at  full  speed,  for  we  were  some 
minutes  behind.  The  road,  at  this  point,  runs  through  a 
deep  cut,  something  more  than  a  mile  in  length,  and  in 
entering  it,  the  road  makes  a  curve,  so  that  an  engineer 
cannot  see  entirely  through  it.  So,  as  we  thundered 
along  on  that  ioth  of  November,  1871,  I  little  thought 
what  stirring  times  were  upon  me.  We  had  hardly 
gotten  into  the  cut,  before  I  saw  a  woman  riding 
leisurely  through  it,  and  with  perfect  nonchalance,  using 
the  centre  of  the  track.  She  was  not  more  than  half 
way  through  the  cut,  and  barely  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
ahead  of  me.  I  whistled  '  down  brakes,'  and  then 
sounded,  the  warning. 

"The  woman  hearing  the  peculiar  death  whistle  of  the 
locomotive,  looked  over  her  shoulder,  and  saw  the  train 
rushing  at  her.  She  did  not  shriek  or  faint,  nor  give  up 
all  hope,  but  like  a  true  Webfoot,  her  courage  rose  equal 
to  the  emergency.  She  commenced  swinging  her  riding 
whip  from  one  shoulder  of  her  horse  to  the  other,  thereby 
urging  him  to  exert  his  utmost  speed.  The  whip,  and 
perhaps  the  shrieking  of  the  steam-whistle,  caused  the 
animal  to  make  excellent  time,  but  the  iron  horse  gained 
upon  him  every  moment. 

"The  quick  and  nervous  whistling  caused  the  passen- 
gers to  look  out  of  the  windows,  and  when  they  saw  the 
lady,  the  wildest  excitement  ensued.     Several  jumped 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  45 

forward  and  seized  the  bell-rope,  as  if  that  would  help. 
The  boys  at  the  brakes  were  exerting  all  their  strength, 
and  you  may  bet,  I  was  doing  all  I  knew  how  to  stop 
the  train.  The  woman,  too,  was  doing  her  level  best 
to  make  that  bit  of  horse-flesh  rise  to  a  Dexter' s  speed, 
but  all  in  vain.  The  locomotive  kept  gaining  on  the 
horse  and  its  rider,  and  there  seemed  no  further  hope. 

"  There  were,  perhaps,  thirty  feet  intervening  between 
the  cow-catcher  and  the  horse's  heels,  when,  fortunately 
for  the  woman,  she  observed  a  place  a  trifle  wider  than 
usual,  and  with  a  steady  rein,  she  guided  the  fleeing 
horse  from  the  track,  and  endeavored  to  press  him 
against  the  wall  of  the  cut  in  order  that  the  train  might 
pass  by  without  injury.  In  doing  this,  the  woman  was 
encouraged  by  Mr.  Sam  Winans,  the  conductor,  who  had 
ran  forward  and  got  out  on  the  locomotive.  A  few 
moments  more,  and  the  fiery  monster  poked  his  nose 
past  the  rump  of  the  horse.  At  this  moment  Mr. 
Winans  threw  his  whole  force  against  the  animal,  and 
held  him  until  the  train  stopped.  And  then  went  up  a 
rousing  cheer  of  gratification  and  joy  at  the  escape  of  the 
woman  from  a  terrible  death." 

"  Say,  give  us  a  rest  on  this  escape  and  accident  busi- 
ness," roared  Cully,  of  the  Baltimore  &  Ohio. 

"Here,  too,"  joined  in  Baker,  of  the  Kansas  Pacific; 
"  out  our  way,  we  kill  people  by  the  score." 
"What  was  that  woman's  name,  Curry?" 
"  She  proved  to  be  a  Portland  belle,  on  a  visit  to  a 
school-mate  at  one  of  the  smaller  stations ;  a  beautiful, 
dashing,  spirited  girl,  about— well,  I  think,  sixteen." 
"  I  say,  what  was  her  name  ?  " 
"  Oh  !  ah  !  Well,  her  name  is  Mrs.  Curry  now !  " 
Whew-w  !     All  right,  John,  let  her  out !     [Sings.] 


46  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

"  Let  her  out  !     Let  her  out  ! 

Sling  care  to  the  dogs; 
Keep  an  eye  on  the  throttle, 

And  an  eye  on  the  frogs. 
Watch  the  flags,  and  the  signals, 

Red,  yellow,  and  green ; 
We're  on  time,  and  as  free 

A-as  e'er  Rover-r  has  been." 

"Good  enough,"  "bully  for  you,"  and  similar  expres- 
sions came  with  the  applause. 

Tounley,  of  the  New  York  Central,  said  it  was  time 
for  a  little  more  romance.  "  To  begin  at  the  commence- 
ment, I  will  state,  that  early  in  i860,  a  young  lady  in  the 
city  of  Auburn,  N.  Y.,  the  daughter  of  wealthy  parents, 
eloped  with  a  young  man  named  Niles,  a  railroad  en- 
gineer, and  the  twain  proceeded  to  Cleveland,  Ohio. 
They  were  pursued  by  an  infuriated  brother  of  the  young 
lady,  and  to  avoid  detection,  after  the  marriage  ceremony 
had  been  performed,  the  young  lady  arrayed  herself  in 
male  attire.  In  this  disguise,  and  while  selling  apples  on 
the  street,  she  passed  her  brother  several  times  without 
being  recognized.  Early  in  the  war,  the  couple  went 
South  to  Nashville,  Tenn.,  where  Niles  got  an  engine  on 
the  Nashville  &  Chattanooga  Road.  His  wife,  still  keep- 
ing up  her  disguise,  shipped  with  him  as  fireman.  Be- 
tween Nashville  and  Chattanooga,  a  shot  fired  by  a  rebel 
inflicted  a  serious  wound  upon  the  engineer,  and  he  was 
taken  to  the  Government  hospital,  at  Murfreesboro, 
Tenn.  His  wife  followed,  and  to  her  careful  nursing, 
Niles  owes  his  life.  When  sufficiently  recovered  to  en- 
dure the  hardships  of  travelling,  they  returned  to  Cleve- 
land. A  few  months  later  the  alleged  gold  discoveries 
at  Mandock,  Canada,  attracted  them  thither,  and  the  wife 
accompanied  her  husband,  still  in  masculine  garments. 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


47 


The  vicissitudes  of  her  career,  exposed  to  hardships  and 
accidents,  were  too  severe,  however,  and  a  few  weeks 
since,  she  died  at  Cleveland,  after  a  brief  illness.  She 
wore  male  attire  successfully  for  ten  years.  Niles,  who 
now  resides  at  Oshkosh,  Wisconsin,  is  about  40  years  of 
age,  and  does  not  refer  to  the  heroic  devotion  of  his 
wife  but  in  terms  of  the  warmest  admiration." 

"When  -a  certain  party  sued  our  Company  for  dam- 
ages," said  a  fireman,  "  engineers  from  all  the  roads  were 
summoned  to  appear  at  the  trial.  Among  others, 
Jauriet,  our  master  mechanic.  One  of  the  lawyers 
asked  the  question  : 

" '  Can  you  get  an  engine  up  to  a  car,  without  moving 
the  car ;  if  so,  how  ? ' 

"  A  number  of  engineers  answered  in  various  ways, 
until  it  came  to  Jauriet. 

"  '  Well,  sir,  I  should  just  get  a  couple  of  pinch-bars, 
and  pinch  her  up.'  " 

"At  another  time,"  said  Malone,  "there  was  a  suit 
against  the  road  at  Peoria;  something  about  damages 
for  setting  fire  to  somebody's  hay.  Our  Billy  Wilson  was 
a  witness,  and  what  he  don't  know  about  a  locomotive 
ain't  worth  knowing.  Well,  the  lawyer  for  the  farmer 
wanted  to  have  some  particular  point  about  an  engine 
explained.  Wilson  had  gone  over  it  two  or  three  times, 
but  couldn't  get  it  through  the  lawyer.  The  lawyer 
finally  confessed  that  he  couldn't  understand  it. 

"'I  am  not  at  all  surprised,'  rejoined  Wilson.  'Any- 
body can  become  a  lawyer,  but  it  requires  brains  and  ex- 
perience to  learn  a  locomotive.'  " 

Chilson,  an  engineer  over  fifty  years  of  age,  was  killed 
on  the  C,  B.  &  Q.  Road,  October  14,  1869.  Jones  said 
he  would  try  and  give  an  account  of  the  sad  occurrence. 


48  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

w  It  was  during  the  Fulton  County  Fair,  and  extra  trains 
were  the  order  of  the  day.  Our  train  was  the  regular 
passenger,  running  from  Galesburg  to  Rushville,  with 
orders  to  meet  the  extra  passenger  at  Canton  ;  then  to  run 
to  Bryant  for  No.  20 — Kimbal's  freight.  We  side-tracked 
at  Canton,  and  while  there  the  telegraph  operator  re- 
ceived orders  to  hold  passenger  for  No.  20.  He  started 
out  with  the  order,  and  seeing  the  passenger  coming, 
thought  it  was  Kimbal's  freight.  He  returned,  failing  to 
deliver  the  order — for  if  it  was  the  freight,  the  order  was 
useless.  But  it  was  the  passenger,  and  the  operator  did 
not  discover  his  mistake  until  the  passenger  came  up  to 
the  platform,  and  had  pulled  out  again.  He  ran  after 
the  train  with  the  order,  but,  of  course,  it  was  a  useless 
chase.  We  had  orders  to  run  to  Bryant  and  '  hurry  up,' 
and  the  freight  had  orders  to  '  hurry  up '  to  Canton.  Both 
trains  were  running  at  full  speed  !  They  met  on  the 
short  curve  in  the  timber,  about  three  miles  below  Canton. 
"  They  saw  nothing  of  each  other  until  separated  by 
only  fifteen  rods.  Chilson  called  for  brakes,  and  Brooks, 
his  fireman,  jumped  off.  He  reversed  his  engine,  and 
with  one  foot  against  the  boiler-head,  and  both  hands 
firmly  grasping  the  throttle,  he  braced  himself  for  his 
fate,  and  stood  there  until  they  struck  ! 

** '  Down  brakes  ! '     One  splendid,  hard-held  breath, 
And  lo  !  an  unknown  name, 
Strode  into  sovereignty  from  death, 
Trailing  a  path  of  fame. 

"  Home — but  his  foot  grew  granite  fast ; 
Wife — yet  he  did  not  reel ; 
Babe — ah,  they  tugged  !  but  to  the  last 
He  stood  there  true  as  steel. 

"When  we  picked  him  up,  life  was  not  extinct.     His 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


49 


face  was  mashed,  and  his  body  fearfully  scalded,  pre- 
senting a  horrid  spectacle.  We  carried  him  to  a  hotel  in 
Canton,  just  across  from  the  depot  there,  and  laid  him 
on  a  cot  in  the  office.  The  landlord  complained  of 
being  full,  and  that  it  would  injure  his  trade  to  have  this 
man  here.  He  had  friends  in  Canton,  rich  and  well-to- 
do,  but  they  refused  to  take  him  in.  Finally,  we  bore 
the  sufferer  to  an  old  vacant  house,  where  he  died  in 
great  agony  in  four  or  five  hours.  His  conductor,  bag- 
gage-man, and  brakemen  were  with  him  to  the  last.  His 
last  words  were,  '  Has  the  old  man  no  friend  in  Canton 
who  will  give  him  a  bed  to  die  on  ? ' 

"  Both  engines  were  smashed  up,  and  two  or  three  la- 
dies were  slightly  bruised,  but  I  believe  the  Company 
thought  poor  Chilson  was  the  greatest  loss.  The  tele- 
graph operator  went  crazy,  and  Mr.  Hitchcock  assisted 
his  family  out  of  his  own  private  purse. 

"No,  he  refused  to  jump  ;  he  had  often  been  heard  to 
say  that  it  was  an  engineer's  duty  to  stand  by  his  engine 
under  all  circumstances." 

"I  think,"  said  Phil  Potter,  feelingly,  "that  we  have 
as  brave  men,  men  as  much  devoted  to  duty,  all  about 
us,  as  those  who  have  been  celebrated  in  prose  and  verse. 
Here  are  some  verses  appropriate  to  the  death  of  Chilson. 

"  INTO  THE  JAWS  OF  DEATH. 

"  The  wind  blows  cold,  the  stars  shine  bright, 
The  ice-bound  river  glistens, 
Where  flying  onward,  into  night, 
The  life-train  madly  hastens. 

"  On,  on,  past  hamlet,  town  and  wood, 
That  fringe  the  frozen  river, 
As  some  infuriate  demon  would 
Glide,  roaming  on  forever. 
8 


50 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

u  On  into  night,  with  fiery  eye, 
Its  sinuous  body  dashes, 
With  iron  muscles,  pulse  of  steam, 
It  plunges,  screams,  and  crashes. 

"  Yet  a  great  soul  inspires  the  hands 
That  guide  its  onward  motion, 
As  starting  from  Atlantic  lands, 
It  seeks  the  Western  ocean. 

"  And  steady  stands  the  engineer, 
True  to  his  fearful  duty ; 
And  glancing  back  among  the  cars, 
Where  rides  babes,  age,  and  beauty. 

"  He  feels  that  loving  human  hearts 
Are  in  his  watch  and  keeping ; 
And  though  he  guides  to  joy  or  death, 
They  trust  him  by  their  sleeping. 

"  Then  firmer  grasps  the  iron  bar ; 
His  noble  heart  thrills  faster — 
Great  God  !  is  that  the  signal  light 
That  tells  of  near  disaster  ? 

"  Then  on  the  air  the  whistle  shrieks 
Like  some  lost  soul  despairing, 
And  onward  to  its  death-doom  flies, 
Past  earthly  aid  and  caring. 

**  The  Spartan  hands  reverse  the  valve — 
'  Put  on  the  patents,  Nick  ! 
We'll  do  the  best  we  can  to  save 
Our  passengers ;  be  quick  ! ' 

"  The  crisis  comes,  '  Say,  will  you  jump  ? ' 
A  glance,  but  no  replying; 
Then  fixed  his  eyes  where  duty  called, 
Though  his  path  led  to  dying. 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  51 

**  A  crash  !  a  flame  leaps  into  air, 
And  laps  the  sundered  timbers, 
And  wailing  voices  echoed  there, 
Where  souls  died  with  the  embers. 

"  And  babes  and  youth,  and  kindly  age, 
And  manhood' s  stronger  glory, 
Returned  to  him  who  seals  the  page 
Of  each  such  frightful  story. 

"And  he  who  clasped  the  guiding  bars 
To  death,  unswerved  from  duty, 
Shall  wear  in  Heaven  the  crown  of  stars 
That  waits  heroic  beauty. 

"  For  Christ,  who  died  that  men  might  live, 
And  dying  claimed  our  loving, 
To  man  who  dies  for  men,  will  give 
His  welcome  and  approving." 


"Say,  Doc,"  asks  one,  "what  was  the  name  of  that 
locomotive  you  run  on  the  B.  &  M.  Road,  two  years 
ago  ?     I  heard  that  you  were  on  that  road  awhile." 

"Why,"  replies  Doc,  "that  was  the  old  '  Ottumwa} 
16+24  inch  cylinder,  4  foot  6  in.  wheel.  You  may  talk 
about  your  rides  and  your  fast  time,  but  just  let  me  tell 
you  what  happened  to  me  once  on  that  road." 

The  boys  wink  at  each  other  and  get  into  position. 

"  Well,  I  was  put  onto  the  '  Ottumwa '  one  day,  and  as 
the  boys  told  me  she  wasn't  very  slow,  thought  I  would 
try  her  a  string  or  two.  My  conductor  came  around, 
and  says  he — 

"  '  This  time  has  got  to  be  made,  and  you'll  have  to 
let  her  out  to  do  it.' 

"So  I  started.  She  moved  off  quite  easy,  and  after 
we  got  out  of  town,  I  let  her  out  a  little.     I  had  been 


52 


EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL. 


jogging  along  I  thought  about  on  time,  when  Hilton,  my 
conductor,  came  over,  and  says  he  : 

"  •  Old  man,  you  will  find  by  the  time  you  get  up  the 
next  grade,  that  you  won't  have  much  time  left  to  go  to 
L for  the  passenger.' 

"  So  I  gave  her  another  notch,  and  when  I  got  to  the 
top  of  the  grade,  I  see,  about  a  mile  ahead,  a  good  half 
mile  of  solid  beef.*  I  took  out  my  watch  and  saw  that 
I  was  forty-five  minutes  late.  Says  I  to  myself:  Doc, 
faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady,  and  I  told  my  fireman  to 
shove  in  some  more  diamonds,  f  I  gave  her  a  little  of 
what  goes  through  the  boiler  and  opened  her  feed-box. 
When  we  passed  through  the  beef  it  was  all  ready  for  the 
butchers.  I  cut  it  up  to  order.  Superintendent  said  I 
was  too  much  of  a  butcher." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say,  Doc,  that  you  went  down 
the  grade  so  fast  that  you  killed  the  stock  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  say  so,  but  I  know  the  foreman  of  the 
Round-House  ordered  some  of  the  wipers  to  drive  off  that 
steer  that  stood  by  the  coal  chute.  He  mistook  the 
'Ottumwa'  for  a  steer.  They  took  eleven  skins  off  the 
pilot! 

"  I've  got  to  finish  this  packing  now,  boys,  but  thafs 
so/" 

"When  '  Doc'  left  the  road  here,"  said  Stedman,  "  I 
took  his  engine,  the  old  '51.'  That  locomotive  could 
drink  more  and  do  her  work  under  it,  than  any  critter  I 
ever  drove.  But  I  never  could  get  her  by  Jim  Aiken's 
at  Mendota,  until  she  had  her  brine.  Doc.  had  her  pretty 
well  trained.     I  tried  her  one  day,  working  her  wide  open, 

•  "Solid  beef. "—Cattle.  f  "Diamonds."— Coal. 


EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL.  53 

with  150  pounds  of  steam,  but  she  stalled  at  Jim's  sure. 
Couldn't  get  her  by  until  we  had  o\xx  brine  /  Ask  Frank 
Stone ! " 

"  There  are  little  incidents  occurring  on  the  Road," 
said  Charlie  Cossom,  "  as  well  worth  the  telling  as  the 
latest  history  of  adultery  and  murder.  A  little  girl  wan- 
dered on  the  track  of  the  Delaware  Railway  as  a  freight 
train  of  nineteen  cars  was  approaching.  As  it  turned 
the  sharp  top  of  the  grade,  opposite  St.  George's,  the 
engineer  saw  the  child  for  the  first  time,  blew  'down 
brakes,'  and  reversed  his  engine.  But  it  was  too  late  to 
slacken  its  speed  in  time,  and  the  poor  baby  got  up,  and, 
laughing,  ran  to  meet  it.  '  I  told  the  conductor,'  says  the 
engineer,  '  if  he  could  jump  off  the  engine,  and  running 
ahead,  pick  the  child  up  before  the  engine  reached  her, 
he  might  save  her  life,  though  it  would  risk  his  own, 
which  he  did.  The  engine  was  within  one  foot  of  the 
child  when  he  secured  it,  and  they  were  both  saved.  I 
would  not  run  the  same  risk  of  saving  a  child  again, 
by  way  of  experiment,  for  all  Newcastle  county,  for  nine 
out  of  ten  might  not  escape.  He  took  the  child  to  the 
lane,  and  she  walked  to  the  house,  and  a  little  girl  was 
coming  after  it  when  he  left."  The  honest  engineer,  hav- 
ing finished  his  day's  run,  sits  down  the  next  morning  and 
writes  the  homely  letter  to  the  father  of  the  child,  "  in 
order  that  it  may  be  more  carefully  watched  in  future," 
and  thanking  God  "  that  himself  and  the  baby's  mother 
slept  tranquilly  last  night,  and  were  spared  the  life -long 
pangs  of  remorse."  It  does  not  occur  to  him  to  even 
mention  the  conductor's  name,  who,  he  seems  to  think, 
did  no  uncommon  thing  in  risking  his  own  life,  unseen 
and  unnoticed,  on  the  solitary  road,  for  a  child  whom  he 
would  never  probably  see  again.     The  moral  of  the  story 


54  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

to  him  was,  apparently,  that  mothers  should  keep  their 
children  off  the  track. 

"Some  one  has  put  the  incident  very  cleverly  in  rhyme, 
which  I  have  carried  in  this  old  book  ever  since : 

"A  RHYME  OF  THE  RAIL. 

"BY  A  RETIRED  ENGINEER. 

"Now  my  running  days  are  over, 

The  engineer  needs  rest ; 
My  hand  is  growing  shaky, 

There's  a  queer  pain  in  my  breast ; 
But  here  near  the  old  turn-table, 

I'll  tell  a  tale  of  the  Road, 
That  '11  ring  in  my  head  forever, 

Till  it  rests  beneath  the  sod. 

"  Lumbering  on  in  the  twilight, 

The  night  was  dropping  her  shade, 
And  the  •  Gladiator '  labored, 

Climbing  the  top  of  the  grade. 
The  train  was  heavily  laden, 

So  I  let  my  engine  rest ; 
Making  the  grading  slowly, 

Till  we  reached  the  upland's  crest. 

"  I  held  my  watch  to  the  lamplight — 

Ten  minutes  behind  the  time  ! 
Lost  in  the  slackened  motion 

Of  the  up-grade's  heavy  climb ; 
But  I  knew  the  miles  of  the  prairie 

That  stretched  a  level  track, 
So  I  touched  the  gauge  of  the  boiler, 

And  pulled  the  lever  back. 

"  Over  the  rails  a-gleaming, 
Thirty  an  hour  or  so, 
The  engine  leaped  like  a  demon, 
Breathing  a  fiery  glow ; 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

But  to  me — a-hold  of  the  lever — 

It  seemed  a  child  alway, 
Ready  to  mind  me  ever, 

And  my  lightest  touch  obey. 

"  I  was  proud,  you  know,  of  my  engine, 

Holding  it  steady  that  night, 
And  my  eye  on  the  track  before  us, 

Ablaze  with  the  drummond  light, 
We  neared  a  well-known  cabin, 

Where  a  child  of  three  or  four, 
As  the  up-train  passed  oft  called  me, 

A  playing  around  the  door. 

"  My  hand  was  firm  on  the  throttle 

As  we  swept  around  the  curve, 
When  something  afar  in  the  shadow 

Struck  fire  through  every  nerve. 
I  sounded  the  brakes,  and  crashing 

The  lever  down  in  dismay ; 
Great  God  !  within  eighty  paces 

Ahead,  was  the  child  at  play. 

"  One  instant — one  moment,  and  only 

The  world  flew  around  in  my  brain, 
I  smote  my  hand  on  my  forehead 

To  keep  back  the  terrible  pain. 
The  train  I  thought  flying  forever, 

With  mad,  irresistible  roll ; 
The  cries  of  the  dying — the  night  wind 

Swept  into  my  shuddering  souL 

"  Then  I  stood  on  the  front  of  the  engine, 

How  I  got  there  I  never  could  tell, 
My  feet  planted  down  on  the  cross-bar, 

Where  the  cow-catcher  slopes  to  the  rail. 
One  hand  firmly  locked  on  the  coupler, 

And  one  held  out  in  the  night, 
While  my  eye  gauged  the  distance,  and  measured 

The  speed  of  our  slackening  flight. 


55 


56  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON"  THE  RAIL. 

"  My  mind — thank  God  ! — it  was  steady, 

I  saw  the  curls  of  her  hair, 
And  the  face  that,  turning  in  wonder, 

Was  lit  by  the  deadly  glare. 
I  know  little  more — but  I  heard  it— 

The  groan  of  the  anguished  wheels, 
And  remember  thinking — the  engine 

In  agony  trembles  and  reels. 

"  One  rod !    To  the  day  of  my  dying 

I  shall  think  the  old  engine  reared  back, 
And  as  it  recoiled  with  a  shudder, 

I  swept  my  hand  over  the  track. 
Then  darkness  fell  over  my  eyelids, 

But  I  heard  the  surge  of  the  train, 
And  the  poor  old  engine  creaking, 

As  racked  by  a  deadly  pain. 

'*  They  found  us,  they  said,  on  the  gravel, 

My  fingers  clutched  in  her  hair ; 
And  she  in  my  bosom  struggling 

To  nestle  securely  there. 
We  are  not  much  given  to  crying, 

We  men  who  run  on  the  Road, 
But  I  wept  o'er  the  little  darling, 

And  sent  up  a  prayer  to  God." 

Hank  Fales,  of  the  Hudson  River  Road,  hoped  the 
boys  wouldn't  pull  out  until  he  had  his  turn.  "  We  may 
never  meet  again,"  he  said,  and  he  wanted  to  offer  a 
tribute  to  brave  old  Jake  Vaughn,  his  old  engineer. 
"  He  was  lost  in  a  frightful  accident  on  our  road,  and  his 
death  was  singularly  affecting.  When  he  was  told  that 
he  could  not  survive,  and  that  it  was  impossible  for  his 
wife  to  reach  him  before  he  died,  he  called  Bill,  his  fire- 
man, and  asked  him  to  write  a  letter  for  him  to  his  wife. 
*Bill  thought  a  great  deal  of  his  engineer,  and  he  after- 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


57 


wards  put  it  in  rough  rhyme,  and  I  keep  the  slip  by  me 
all  the  time.  Jake  called  his  engine  'Fleetwing,'  and 
sometimes  his  'wife.'  He  begged  us,  with  his  dying 
breath,  not  to  blame  Fleetwing,  but  the  broken  rail. 

"THE  DYING  ENGINEER. 

"A  fireman's  rhyme. 

u  Bill,  I'm  on  the  down  grade  now, 

And  can't  reach  ary  brake  ; 
Guess  old  '  Fleetwing's'  time  is  up, 

Leastwise,  it's  up  with  Jake. 
Jake  Vaughn — yes,  write  it  down  in  full, 

S/ie'Hknov/  what  to  infer — 
You  see  I  called  '  Fleetwing '  my  wife 

Before  I  married  her. 

"  Torpedoes — never  mind — no  use, 

Nor  Sand — I'm  running  wild ; 
Say,  Bill,  just  scratch  another  word, 

One  for  our  little  child  ! 
'Pull  her  over ' — no,  what  use, 

On  our  side  of  the  hill ; 
Just  hold  her  level  for  a  spell, 

What !  you  ain'  t  crying — Bill  ? 

"  '  Broke ' — you're  right.     It  seems  to  me 

She's  lost  a  rod  or  beam  ; 
No  fire,  no  water — say,  my  boy, 

How  can  you  get  your  steam  ? 
Head-light's  all  agog,  besides, 

And  swimming  in  the  wind  ; 
Say,  Bill,  afore  you  write  that  out, 

What's  comin'  on  behind? 

'*  Them  bridges — no,  the  Hudson  Road 
Ain't  much  on  bridges,  eh  ! 
There'll  be  an  awful  smash-up,  boy, 

Right  here,  some  other  day. 
8* 


58  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

An'  tell  her  *  Fleetwing^  ain't  to  blame, 

Only  she  come  it  strong ; 
Down  grade,  you  see,  yes — name  in  full, 

Your'n  truly,  Jacob  Vaughn. 

"  Bill,  I'm  on  the  down  grade  now, 
There's  no  way  now  to  stop ; 
The  order's  come  for  Fleet  and  me 
To  hurry  to  the  shop. 
'Lay  off  a  trip,'  you're  right,  my  boy, 
A  long  trip  with  the  dead  ; 
Just  tell  her,  Bill,  Jake  ain't  afeard 
Of  anything  ahead." 

"  I  formed  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Tom  Hoyle  in  the 
air,  at  an  altitude,  I  should  conjecture,  of  about  5,000 
feet.  We  were  sent  up  as  avant  courriers  by  a  locomo- 
tive that  subsequently  retired  from  business ;  so  when  we 
returned  to  Mother  Earth,  both  employer  and  employ- 
ment were  gone.  I  was  not  allowed  the  pleasure  of  a 
formal  introduction  to  Mr.  Hoyle  during  that  brief  jour- 
ney, but  having  been  picked  up  in  his  embrace,  I  have 
always  hugged  the  impression  that  he  had  a  hold  on 
my  friendship  for  life.  He  was  an  English  engineer, 
or  'driver'  as  they  are  called  there,  and  I  had  been 
allowed  a  few  miles  on  the  stoker's  seat,  in  order  to 
watch  Hoyle  at  his  work.  He  was  a  little  over  anxious 
to  make  a  good  display  of  his  skill  and  the  power  of  his 
engine,  and  his  original  ideas  exploded,  with  the  result 
as  hinted  above. 

"  We  were  carried  to  a  farm-house  near  by,  where  every 
care  and  attention  were  extended.  It  was  during  this 
forced  confinement  that  I  learned  much  about  driving 
engines.  Hoyle  would  get  his  splinters  arranged  com- 
fortably, and  sometimes  go  on  for  hours,  in  this  way : 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


59 


"  '  When  a  man  has  a  liking  for  a  thing,  it's  as  good  as 
being  clever.  In  a  very  short  time  I  became  one  of  the 
best  drivers  on  the  line.  This  was  allowed.  I  took  a 
pride  in  it,  you  see,  and  liked  it.  No,  I  didn't  know 
much  about  the  engine,  scientifically,  as  you  call  it ;  but 
I  could  put  her  to  rights  if  anything  went  out  of  gear — 
that  is  to  say,  if  there  was  nothing  broken — but  I 
couldn't  have  explained  how  the  steam  worked  inside. 
Starting  an  engine  is  just  like  drawing  a  drop  of  gin. 
You  turn  a  handle  and  off  she  goes ;  then  you  turn  the 
handle  the  other  way,  put  on  the  brakes,  and  you  stops 
her.  There's  not  much  more  in  it,  so  far.  It's  no  good 
being  scientific  and  knowing  the  principle  of  the  engine 
inside  ;  no  good  at  all.  Fitters  who  know  all  the  ins  and 
outs  of  the  engine  make  the  worst  of  drivers.  That's 
well  known.  They  know  too  much.  It's  just  as  I've 
heard  of  a  man  with  regard  to  his  inside ;  if  he  knew 
what  a  complicated  machine  it  is,  he  would  never  eat  or 
drink,  or  dance,  or  run,  or  do  anything,  for  fear  of  burst- 
ing something.  So  it  is  with  fitters.  But  we  who  are 
not  troubled  with  such  thoughts,  we  go  ahead. 

"  '  But  starting  an  engine  is  one  thing,  and  driving  of  her 
is  another.  Any  one,  a  child,  almost,  can  turn  on  steam 
and  turn  it  off  again  ;  but  it  ain't  everyone  that  can  keep 
an  engine  well  on  the  road,  no  more  than  it  ain't  every 
one  who  can  ride  a  horse  properly.  It  is  much  the  same 
thing.  If  you  gallop  a  horse  right  off  for  a  mile  or  two, 
you  take  the  wind  out  of  him,  and  for  the  next  mile  or 
two  you  must  let  him  trot  or  walk.  So  it  is  with  an  en- 
gine. If  you  put  too  much  steam  on  to  get  over  the 
ground  at  a  start,  you  exhaust  the  boiler,  and  then  you'll 
have  to  crawl  along  till  your  fresh  water  boils  up.  The 
great  thing  in  driving  is  to  go  steady,  never  to  let  your 


Co  EVERYDAY  LIFE  OJV  THE  RAIL. 

water  get  too  low  nor  your  fire  too  low.  It's  the  same 
with  a  kettle.  If  you  fill  it  up  when  it's  about  half 
empty,  it  soon  comes  to  a  boil  again.  Another  thing  : 
you  should  never  make  spurts  unless  you  are  detained 
and  lose  time.  You  should  go  up  an  incline  and  down 
an  incline  at  the  same  pace.  Sometimes  a  driver  will 
waste  his  steam,  and  when  he  comes  to  a  hill,  he  has 
scarcely  enough  to  drag  him  up.  When  you're  in  a  train 
that  goes  by  fits  and  starts,  you  may  be  sure  there  is  a 
bad  driver  on  the  engine.  That  kind  of  driving  frightens 
passengers  dreadfully.  When  the  train,  after  rattling 
along,  suddenly  slacks  speed  when  it  ain't  near  a  station, 
it  may  be  in  the  middle  of  a  tunnel,  the  passengers  think 
there  is  danger.  But  generally  it's  because  the  driver  has 
exhausted  his  steam.' " 

"Barney  Butz  is  the  oldest  locomotive  engineer  in  the 
United  States.  He  now  runs  an  engine  on  the  Reading 
(Pa.)  Railroad.  He  was  born  in  Conyngham,  Luzerne 
county,  Penn.,  about  the  year  1835  or  1836.  In  1847 
he  was  running  an  engine  from  Parryville  to  Weatherly, 
the  '  planes '  being  then  in  operation.  The  cars  were 
drawn  up  to  the  planes  by  a  stationary  engine.  I  am  on 
the  Reading  Road  now,  and  they  tell  a  good  story  of 
Barney's  readiness  in  case  of  an  emergency.  One  day 
his  engine  would  not  steam  well,  and  he  was  likely  to  be 
overtaken  by  a  passenger  train  before  he  could  reach  the 
switch.  Seeing  a  good-sized  porker  beside  the  track,  he 
jumped  from  the  engine — the  train  moving  slowly — • 
seized  the  pig,  cut  its  throat,  and  stuffed  it  into  the  fur- 
nace. The  fat  of  the  pig  was  better  than  kindling  wood, 
and  in  a  very  short  time,  Barney  and  his  train  were  out  of 
danger." 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  6 1 


ACROSTIC. 

Lo!  the  long  railway  train  winding  and  narrow, 

Over  the  tressle-work  into  the  city, 
Coming  too  sure  with  the  speed  of  an  arrow, 

On  to  its  wreck  without  warning  or  pity. 
Moments  seem  passing  the  mastery  of  mortal — 

Only  a  miracle  retrieves  the  error  ; 
Thunders  the  bridge  at  its  innermost  portal, 

Increasing  and  nearing  and  deepening  in  terror, 
Voices  would  reach  to  the  gateway  of  heaven 
Ere  this  wild  roar  by  a  cry  could  be  riven. 

Even  now,  steady  now,  swift  go  as  lightning, 
Nerving  his  arm  with  its  mightiest  force, 

Gigantic  the  sinews  like  iron  thews  tightening, 
In  driving  the  mad  engine  back  on  her  course. 

Now  answers  the  signal  of  danger  already — 
Easier  backward  now,  safer  and  faster — 

Every  soul  blessing  the  courage  so  steady, 

Redeeming  their  awe-stricken  lives  from  disaster. 


VI. 


guelden's  last  drink. 


AN  ENGINEER'S  CONFESSION. 


aka: 


HAVE  travelled  this  road  every  day  of  my 
life,  ever  since  it  was  laid,  in  charge  of  the 
San  Francisco,  the  prettiest  and  best  engine  on 
the  line.  It  was  a  South-western  road,  running, 
as  we  will  say,  from  A.  to  Z.  At  A.  my  mother  lived,  at 
Z.  I  had  the  sweetest  little  wife  in  the  world,  and  a  baby, 
the  very  image  of  its  pa.  I  had  always  had  a  dollar  or 
two  put  by  for  a  rainy  day,  and  the  boys  spoke  of  me 
as  an  odd  kind  of  a  man.  To  be  shut  up  with  an  en- 
gine, watching  with  all  your  eyes,  and  heart  and  soul, 
don't  make  a  conscientious  man  talkative,  and  I  never 
squandered  my  leisure,  spinning  yarns  and  listening  to 
railway  jokes  in  the  Round-House.  My  wife's  name  was 
Josephine,  and  I  called  her  'Joe.' 

"I  never  belonged  to  any  of  the  railway  clubs  or  other 
organizations,  and  never  should,  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
Granby.  Granby  was  a  nephew  of  our  division  super- 
intendent, and  it's  a  failing  with  we  men  of  the  Road  that 


GUELDEN'S  LAST  DRINK.  63 

we  like  to  be  noticed  by  the  fellows  at  headquarters,  if 
only  permitted  to  touch  the  hem  of  their  garments.  Gran- 
by  was  a  showy  fellow,  and  often  rode  with  me  from 
A.  to  Z.  He  had  a  good  opinion  of  me,  and  as  far  as  I 
know,  we  were  good  friends.     Once  he  said  to  me  : 

"  'You  ought  to  belong  to  the  Railway  Scientific  Club, 
Guelden.' 

"  '  Never  heard  of  it,'  said  I. 

"  '  We  meet  once  a  fortnight,'  he  replied,  '  and  have  a 
jolly  good  time.  We  want  practical,  thinking  men  of 
your  sort,  and  I'll  propose  you,  if  you  like.' 

"  I  was  fond  of  such  things,  and  I  had  ideas  that  I  fan- 
cied might  be  worth  something.  But  the  engineer  don't 
have  many  nights  or  days  to  himself,  and  the  club  would 
have  one  evening  a  fortnight  from  Joe,  I  said. 

"  '  I  will  ask  her.     If  she  likes  it,  yes.' 

"  'Ask  whom  ?  '  he  said. 

"'Joe,'  said  I. 

"  'If  every  man  had  asked  his  wife,  every  man's  wife 
would  have  said,  "  Can't  spare  you,  my  dear,"  and  we 
should  have  no  club  at  all,'  said  Granby. 

"  But  I  made  no  answer.  At  home  I  told  Joe.  She 
said: 

"  '  I  shall  miss  you,  Ned  ;  but  you  do  love  such  things, 
and  if  Granby  belongs  to  it  they  must  be  superior  men.' 

"  So  I  said  yes,  and  Granby  proposed  me.  Thursday 
fournight  I  went  with  him  to  the  rooms.  The  real  busi- 
ness of  the  evening  was  the  supper. 

"  I  had  always  been  a  temperate  man.  I  did  not  know 
what  effect  wine  would  have  on  me,  but  coming  to  drink 
more  of  it  than  I  ever  had  before  at  the  club  table,  I 
found  it  put  steam  on.  After  so  many  glasses  I  wanted 
to  talk,  and  after  so  many  more,  I  did. 


64  GUELDEN'S  LAST  DRINK. 

"  I  seemed  like  somebody  else,  the  words  were  so  ready. 
My  ideas  came  out  and  were  listened  to.  I  made  sharp 
hits  and  indulged  in  repartee,  told  stories,  and  even  came 
to  puns.  I  heard  somebody  say,  '  Granby,  by  George, 
that's  a  man  worth  having.  I  thought  him  dull  at  first.' 
Yet  I  knew  it  was  better  to  be  quiet  Ned  Guelden,  with 
his  ten  words  an  hour,  than  the  wine-made  wit  I  was. 

"  I  was  sure  of  it  when  three  months  after  I  stumbled  up- 
stairs to  find  Joe  waiting  for  me  with  her  baby  on  her 
breast. 

"  '  You've  been  deceiving  me,'  said  Joe ;  '  I  suspected 
it,  but  wasn't  sure.  A  Scientific  Club  couldn't  smell 
like  a  bar-room.' 

"  '  Which  means  that  I  do,'  said  I. 

" '  And  look  like  one,'  said  Joe,  as  she  locked  herself 
and  baby  up  in  the  spare-bedroom. 

"  One  night  I  was  dressed  in  my  Sunday  suit,  ready  to 
go  to  the  Club,  when  Joe  stood  before  me. 

"  '  Ned,'  said  she, '  I  never  had  a  fault  to  find  with  you 
before.  You've  been  kind  and  good  and  loving  always  ; 
but  I  should  be  sorry  we  ever  met  if  you  go  on  in  this 
way.     Don't  ask  what  I  mean — you  know.' 

"  '  It's  only  Club  night,'  said  I. 

"  '  It  will  grow,'  said  she. 

"  Then  she  put  her  arms  around  my  neck. 

"'Ned,'  said  she,  'do  you  think  a  thing  so  much  like 
a  bolted  and  strapped  down  demon  as  steam  is,  is  fit  to 
put  into  the  hands  of  a  drunken  man  ?  And  some  day, 
mark  my  words,  not  only  Thursday  night,  but  all  the  days 
of  the  week  will  be  the  same.  I  have  often  heard  you 
wonder  what  the  feelings  of  an  engineer  who  has  about 
the  same  as  murdered  a  train  full  of  people,  must  be, 
and  you'll  know  if  you  don't  stop  where  you  are.     A 


GUELDEN'S  LAST  DRINK.  C$ 

steady  hand  and  a  clear  head  have  been  your  blessing  all 
these  years.  Don't  throw  them  away.  Ned,  if  you 
don't  care  for  my  love,  don't  ruin  yourself.' 

"  My  little  Joe.  She  spoke  from  her  heart,  and  I  bent 
over  and  kissed  her. 

"  'Don't  be  afraid,  child  ;  I'll  never  pain  you  again.' 

"  And  I  meant  it;  but  at  twelve  o'clock  that  night  I  felt 
that  I  had  forgotten  my  promise  and  my  resolution. 

"I  couldn't  get  home  to  Joe.  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
sleep  on  the  Club  sofa,  and  leave  the  place  for  good  the 
next  day.  Already  I  felt  my  brain  reel  as  it  had  never 
done  before.  In  an  hour  I  was  in  a  kind  of  stupor.  It 
was  morning.  A  waiter  stood  ready  to  brush  my  coat. 
I  saw  a  grin  on  his  face.  My  heart  seemed  ready  to 
burst ;  my  hand  trembled ;  I  looked  at  my  watch ;  I  had 
only  just  five  minutes  to  reach  the  depot ! 

"Joe's  words  came  to  my  mind.  Was  I  fit  to  take 
charge  of  an  engine  ?  I  was  not  fit  to  answer.  I  ought 
to  have  asked  some  sober  man.  As  it  was,  I  only 
caught  my  hat  and  rushed  away.     I  was  just  in  time. 

"  The  San  Francisco  glistened  in  the  sun.  The  cars 
were  filling  rapidly.  From  my  post  I  could  hear  the 
people  talking — bidding  each  other  good-by,  and  promis- 
ing to  write  and  come  again.  Among  them  was  an  old 
gentleman  I  knew  by  sight — one  of  the  shareholders ;  he 
was  bidding  two  timid  girls  adieu. 

"  '  Good-by,  Kitty  ;  good-by,  Lue,'  I  heard  him  say ; 
'don't  be  nervous.  The  San  Francisco  is  the  safest  en- 
gine on  the  line,  and  Guelden  the  most  careful  engi- 
neer. I  would  not  be  afraid  to  trust  every  mortal  to 
their  keeping.  Nothing  could  happen  wrong  with  the 
two  together.' 

"  I  said,  '  We'll  get  through  it  somehow,  and  Joe  shall 


66  GUELDEN'S  LAST  DRINK. 

never  talk  to  me  again.  After  all,  it  was  easy  enough.' 
I  reeled  as  I  spoke.     I  heard  the  signal.     We  were  off. 

"  Five  hours  from  L.  to  D.;  five  hours  back  again.  I 
knew  now,  that  on  the  last  run  I  should  be  myself  again. 
I  saw  a  flutter,  and  never  guessed  what  it  was,  until  we 
had  passed  the  down  train  at  the  wrong  place.  Two 
minutes  more,  and  we  should  have  had  a  collision. 
Somebody  told  me,  and  I  laughed.  I  heard  the  share- 
holder say,  respectfully : 

" '  Of  course,  Mr.  Guelden,  you  know  what  you  are 
about  ? ' 

"  Then  I  was  alone,  and  wondering  whether  I  should  go 
faster  or  slower.  I  did  something,  and  the  cars  rushed  on 
at  a  fearful  rate.  The  same  man  who  had  spoken  to  me 
before  was  standing  near  me.     I  heard  the  question — 

"'How  many  miles  an  hour  are  we  making?'  I 
didn't  know. 

"  Rattle,  rattle,  rattle  !  I  was  trying  now  to  slacken  the 
speed  of  the  San  Francisco.  I  could  not  remember  what 
I  should  do — was  it  this  or  that — faster  or  slower?  I 
was  playing  with  the  engine  like  a  child. 

"  Suddenly  there  was  a  horrible  roar — a  crash.  I  was 
flung  somewhere.  I  was  in  the  water.  By  a  miracle  I 
was  sobered,  not  hurt.  I  gained  the  shore.  I  stood 
upon  the  ground  between  the  track  and  the  river's  edge, 
and  there  gazed  at  my  work. 

"The  engine  was  in  fragments,  the  cars  in  splinters; 
dead  and  dying  and  wounded  were  strewn  around — men 
and  women  and  children — old  age  and  youth.  There 
were  groans  and  shrieks  of  despair.  The  maimed  cried 
out  in  pain ;  the  uninjured  bewailed  their  dead ;  and  a 
voice,  unheard  by  any  other,  was  in  my  ear,  whispering 
*  Murder.' 


GUELDEN'S  LAST  DRINK.  67 

"  The  news  had  gone  to  A.,  and  people  came  thronging 
down  to  find  their  lost  ones.  Searching  for  an  old  man's 
daughter,  I  came  to  a  place  under  the  trees,  and  found 
five  bodies  lying  there,  all  in  their  rigid  horror — an  old 
woman,  a  young  one,  a  baby,  and  two  tiny  children. 
Was  it  fancy — was  it  pure  fancy,  born  of  my  anguish — 
they  looked  like — oh,  Heaven !  they  were  my  wife,  my 
children — all  cold  and  dead. 

"  How  did  they  come  on  the  train  ?  What  chance  had 
brought  this  about  ?  No  one  could  answer.  I  groaned, 
I  screamed,  I  clasped  my  hands,  I  tore  my  hair,  I  gazed 
in  the  good  old  face  of  her  who  gave  me  birth,  on  the 
lovely  features  of  my  wife,  on  my  innocent  children.  I 
called  them  by  name ;  there  was  no  answer.  There 
never  could  be — there  never  would  be. 

"  A  whistle  /  Great  God  !  Onward  up  the  track  thun- 
dered another  train !  Its  red  eyes  glared  upon  me ;  I 
threw  myself  before  it ;  I  felt  it  crush  me  to  atoms  ! 

" '  His  head  is  extremely  hot,'  said  somebody. 

"  I  opened  my  eyes  and  saw  my  wife — 

"  '  How  do  you  feel  ? '  said  she ;  '  a  little  better  ? ' 

"  I  was  so  rejoiced  and  astonished  by  the  sight  of  her 
that  I  could  not  speak  at  first.  She  repeated  the  ques- 
tion. 

"  '  I  must  be  crushed  to  pieces,'  said  I,  '  for  the  train 
went  over  me ;  but  I  feel  no  pain.' 

"  'There  he  goes  about  that  train  again,'  said  my  wife. 
"Why,  I  tried  to  move — there  was  nothing  the  matter 
with  me.  I  was  in  my  own  room  ;  opposite  to  me  a  crib 
in  which  my  child  was  asleep.  My  wife  and  child  were 
safe.     Was  I  delirious,  or  what  could  it  be  ? 

" '  Joe,'  I  cried,  '  tell  me  what  has  happened.' 


68  GUELDEN'S  LAST  DRINK. 

"'It's  nine  o'clock,'  said  Joe.  'You  came  home  in 
such  a  state  from  the  Club  that  I  couldn't  wake  you. 
You  weren't  fit  to  manage  steam,  and  risk  people's  lives. 
The  San  Francisco  is  half  way  to  A.,  I  suppose,  and  you 
have  been  frightening  me  half  to  death  with  your  dread- 
ful talk.' 

"  And  Joe  began  to  cry. 

"  It  was  only  a  dream  ;  only  an  awful  dream.  But  I 
had  lived  through  it  as  though  it  were  a  reality. 

"  '  Is  there  a  Bible  in  the  house,  Joe  ? '  said  I. 

" '  Are  we  heathens  ? '  asked  Joe. 

"  '  Give  it  to  me  this  moment,  Joe.' 

"  She  brought  it,  and  I  put  my  hand  on  it  and  took  the 
oath  (too  solemn  to  be  repeated  here),  that  what  had 
happened  never  should  occur  again.  And  if  the  San 
Francisco  ever  comes  to  grief,  the  verdict  will  not  be,  as 
it  has  so  often  been,  '  The  engineer  was  drunk.' " 


VII. 


THE  MANIAC'S   RIDE. 


BY  A  RETIRED  ENGINEER. 


JT  is  ten  years  ago,  boys,  since  that  little   affair 
happened  near  the  P Bridge,  but  it  never 


comes  back  to  my  mind  without  making  me 
shudder.     I  was  running  old  No.  20  between 

H and  B at  that  time,  and  was  regarded  as  a 

careful  and  reliable  man.  The  road  was  in  splendid  con- 
dition ;  my  engine  had  just  come  out  of  the  shop, 
thoroughly  repaired,  and  altogether  the  duties  were 
pleasant  and  easy  enough,  as  duties  in  our  line  go. 

"  It  was  on  a  Sunday  morning,  I  remember,  and  I  had 
backed  down  from  the  round-house  to  the   station   at 

H ,  coupled  on  to  my  train,  and  was  waiting  for  the 

passengers  to  finish  their  breakfast.  My  wife  had 
brought  the  children  down  to  the  depot,  as  was  her  cus- 
tom every  Sunday  morning,  and  I  was  playing  with  them 
on  the  platform,  while  the  passengers  came  hurrying  out, 
one  by  one.     I  was  just  giving  one  of  my  youngsters  a 


7o 


THE  MANIAC'S  RIDE. 


parting  hug,  and  wondering  why  my  fireman  stayed  so 
long  at  his  breakfast,  when  all  of  a  sudden  I  saw  a  man 
— a  stranger  to  me — jump  stealthily  but  quickly  upon  the 
engine  and  pull  the  throttle  !  The  wheels  creaked,  the 
train  moved,  and  the  loiterers  on  the  platform  jumped 
hurriedly  on  board.  Quick  as  thought,  I  placed  the 
child  in  its  mother's  arms,  and  in  another  instant  was  face 
to  face  with  the  intruder. 

"  A  single  look  sufficed  to  tell  me  that  he  meant  mis- 
chief. A  man  of  herculean  stature,  bareheaded,  and 
scantily  attired,  with  eyes  glaring  like  coals  of  fire,  with 
long  hair  falling  down  upon  his  shoulders,  with  sleeves 
rolled  up  above  his  elbows,  displaying  brawny,  muscular 
arms,  and  with  a  wild,  excited  laugh  upon  his  counte- 
nance, was  before  me,  pulling  the  bell-rope  violently,  and 
taking  apparently  but  little  notice  of  my  presence.  In  less 
time  than  I  have  been  telling  it,  I  had  closed  with  him. 

"  'What  are  you  doing  ?     Are  you  crazy  ? '  I  cried. 

"  He  looked  at  me  for  a  minute,  with  that  same  devil- 
ish leer  in  his  eye,  and  pushing  me  back  as  if  I  were  a 
feather,  said,  abstractedly : 

"  'Don't  annoy  me  now,  I  beg  of  you  ;  I'm  busy.' 

"  I  summoned  all  my  strength,  and  rushed  upon  him 
again,  for  by  this  time  the  train  was  well  in  motion,  and 
the  rate  of  speed  was  momentarily  increasing. 

"  He  let  go  of  the  bell-rope,  and,  as  I  seized  him  by 
the  arms,  grasped  mine  in  turn,  and  holding  me  in  a  vice- 
like grip,  looked  me  full  in  the  face. 

" '  Didn't  I  tell  you,'  said  he,  in  a  harsher  voice  than 
before,  '  that  I  didn't  wish  to  be  annoyed.' 

"  I  glanced  into  his  face  closely  as  he  spoke,  and  then, 
for  the  first  time,  the  horrible  truth  broke  in  upon  me — 
the  man  was  mad  I 


THE  MANIAC'S  RIDE.  J\ 

"  I  felt  a  shudder  run  through  my  veins,  and  great  drops 
of  cold  sweat  stood  out  upon  my  face,  as  in  a  single  mo- 
ment I  realized  the  dreadful  danger  before  me.  I  thought 
of  my  little  children,  whose  kisses  were  yet  warm  upon 
my  face,  and  of  that  long  train  behind  us,  full  of  passen- 
gers so  little  suspecting  their  peril.  All  the  stories  I  had 
ever  heard  or  read  of  crazy  people  and  their  freaks 
flashed  through  my  mind  in  that  instant,  as  I  felt  myself 
pushed  backwards  to  destruction. 

"But  no  ;  quietly  seating  me  upon  the  bench,  on  the 
other  side,  he  loosened  his  hold,  and  returned  to  his  post, 
saying,  in  the  same  abstracted  voice  as  at  first : 

"  'There,  now  !  I  don't  want  to  be  bothered  ! ' 

"  By  this  time  we  were  dashing  along  at  a  pretty  rapid 
rate,  and  I  could  see  that  he  knew  how  to  handle  the 
engine  almost  as  well  as  I  did  myself.  I  jumped  to  my 
feet,  and  a  third  time  he  leaned  forward  to  reach  the 
throttle  lever. 

"  '  For  God's  sake,  stop  her ! '  I  exclaimed.  '  Who  are 
you  ? ' 

"  '  Me  ? '  he  answered,  with  a  quiet  laugh.  '  I'm  a 
practical  engineer,  working  in  the  interests  of  science. 
I've  studied  for  years,  and  years,  and  years,  and  now  I 
want  to  make  an  experiment !     Don't  interrupt  me  ! ' 

"  He  gave  me  another  look,  full  of  wild  determination, 
and  then  burst  into  a  fit  of  hilarious  laughter. 

"  '  Good  !  good  !  good  ! '  he  cried.  '  But  she'll  do 
better,  better,  better,  by  and  by  !     Now — she  flies ! ' 

"  He  gave  the  throttle  lever  another  jerk  ;  the  engine 
shot  away  faster  than  ever,  and  trees,  telegraph  poles, 
fences,  and  houses  went  by  like  lightning. 

"  For  a  moment  I  sunk  down  upon  my  seat  in  utter 
despair.     To  measure  strength  with  the  madman  was,  I 


J  2  THE  MANIAC'S  RIDE. 

saw,  simply  suicidal.  A  struggle  could  only  result  in  cer- 
tain destruction  to  myself,  and  probable  destruction  to 
the  train  and  all  on  board  of  it.  But  one  possible  chance 
of  regaining  control  of  the  engine  presented  itself,  and 
that  would  require  ail  the  nerve  and  coolness  I  had  in 
me.  I  must  draw  him  into  conversation,  and  watch  for 
my  opportunity  to  gain  advantage  either  of  his  credulity 
or  his  vanity  sufficiently  to  induce  him  to  give  me  his 
place.  Once  there,  I  must  trust  to  Providence  and  my 
own  courage  to  prevent  further  mischief. 

"  I  scanned  him  closer  than  ever  for  a  moment  or  two. 
He  seemed  to  have  entirely  forgotten  my  presence ;  now 
jumping  up,  and  laughing,  and  clapping  his  hands ;  now 
letting  more  steam  on ;  now  looking  eagerly  out  ahead, 
and  murmuring  :  '  Better,  better,  better  still ! ' 

"My  heart  was  thumping  against  my  chest,  as  I  said: 

"  '  You  seem  to  understand  your  business  pretty  well, 
anyhow,  my  friend.     Been  long  at  it  ? ' 

"  He  looked  at  me,  looked  away  again,  but  did  not 
answer. 

" '  I  see  you  are  a  good  practical  engineer,  as  you  say,' 
I  continued.  'How  long  have  you  been  at  the  busi- 
ness ? ' 

"  '  Years,  and  years,  and  years,  I  tell  you ! '  he  an- 
swered. '  It  was  I  who  fitted  out  Pegasus,  the  winged 
steed.  I  who  gave  that  fellow,  Icarus,  the  wax  wings ; 
but  he  flew  too  near  Old  Sol,  and  they  melted  and  let 
him  down  into  the  water.     Ha  !  ha  !  ha ! ' 

"  *  I  wish  I  only  had  your  experience  at  it,'  said  I ; 
'  what  a  team  we'd  make  together,  pulling  in  the  cause  of 
science,  eh  ? ' 

"  A  new  light,  an  expression  of  unspeakable  delight, 
lighted  up  his  face  as,  catching  my  words,  he  turned  to- 


THE  MANIAC'S  RIDE. 


n 


ward  me  and,  looking  me  full  in  the  face,  answered,  but 
no  longer  abstractedly : 

"  '  Are  you  for  science,  too  ? ' 

"  '  Science,  every  inch  of  me  ! '  said  I. 

"  *  Give  us  your  hand  ! '  and  he  shook  mine  with  a  fer- 
vor which  sent  a  tingle  to  my  very  collar-bone.  '  Hurrah 
for  science.  You're  the  man  I've  been  searching  for  with 
a  lantern  these  thousand  years.  You  can  help  me.  But ' 
— and  he  leaned  and  whispered  in  my  ear,  so  distinctly 
that  I  could  hear  every  word  and  letter  of  it  above  the 
racket  around  us — '  can  you  keep  a  secret  ? ' 

"  '  Certainly  I  can,'  I  replied,  while  a  sort  of  creeping 
horror  stole  over  me,  as  I  felt  his  hot  breath  upon  my 
face. 

" '  You  swear  you  can  ? '  he  continued,  looking  inquir- 
ingly into  my  face. 

"  '  I  swear  I  can  ! '  said  I,  with  a  desperate  effort,  look- 
ing back  at  him. 

"  '  Because,'  he  grated  out,  between  his  teeth,  '  if  I 
thought  you  meant  to  betray  me,  I'd  tear  your  tongue 
out!' 

"  '  Never  fear  one  man  of  science  betraying  another,' 
I  answered,  with  a  sickly  attempt  at  bravery.  ',  I'm  your 
man ! ' 

"  '  Well,  then,  mind  what  I  say,'  said  the  madman,  ap- 
parently reassured,  and  pulling  from  his  coat  pocket  a 
bunch  of  dirty  papers,  scrawled  all  over  with  lead-pencil 
marks.  'Here's  my  secret,  the  result  of  five  hundred 
years'  hard  study.  To  you,  as  a  friend  of  science,  I  will 
impart  it.     But  remember  your  promise  ! ' 

"  By  this  time  I  felt  terribly  uneasy — not  only  in  appre- 
hension of  my  strange  companion's  intentions,  but  on 
account  of  the  alarming  rapidity  at  which  we  were  mov- 
4 


74 


THE  MANIAC'S  RIDE. 


ing.  The  madman  was  crafty  enough  to  keep  his  position 
upon  the  foot-board,  and  I  saw  there  was  no  hope  of 
stealing  a  march  upon  him  in  that  direction. 

"  '  Now,  you  see,'  he  went  on  to  say,  '  a  tangent  from  a 
parabolic  curve  goes  on  to  infinity,'  and  he  held  up  one 
of  the  soiled  scrawls  before  me,  pointing  out  the  marks 
upon  it  with  his  long,  craw-like  fore-finger ;  '  and  infinity 
is  what  ?  Do  you  know  ?  No ;  but  you  shall.  Do  I  know  ? 
Yes ;  and,  in  the  cause  of  science,  I  am  going  to  show  you. 
Speed,  in  locomotion,  tends  toward  infinity.  Infinity 
is  unknown.  The  higher  the  speed,  consequently,  the 
greater  the  proximity  to  the  unknown.  Down  where  I've 
been  studying,  they  wouldn't  let  me  build  my  engine  to 
make  this  experiment  with.  So,'  and  here  his  voice  fell 
to  a  horrid  whisper  again,  '  I  came  away  secretly  the 
other  night,  and  now — ha !  ha  !  ha  ! — I've  got  a  good 
engine  of  my  own  !  Speed,  speed,  speed  is  what  we 
want !  By  and  by  we'll  be  ready  for  the  tangent ;  then 
infinity,  and  then  our  fortune  is  made  forever  ! ' 

"  I  saw  that  hope  was  fast  disappearing.  His  inten- 
tion plainly  was  to  put  the  engine  to  her  highest  speed, 
and  send  us  whizzing  over  an  embankment  at  the  first 
short  curve.     We  had  gone  nine  miles  already,  although 

only  thirteen  minutes  had  elapsed  since  we  left  H . 

I  nerved  myself  for  a  final  effort. 

"  '  Come,'  said  I,  'your  secret  is  a  wonderful  one,  and 
now  that  I  know  it,  I  will  give  you  all  my  help  to  carry 
out  your  plan.  But  you  have  overlooked  one  important 
point.  The  tangent  which  will  quickest  bring  us  to  what 
we  are  after — infinity — must  be  directed  from  a  point  as 
near  as  possible  to  the  base  of  the  cone.  That  point  we 
cannot  discern,  unless  you,  with  your  superior  insight 
into  the  principle  involved,  take  a  position  upon  the  out- 


THE  MANIAC'S  RIDE. 


75 


side  of  the  engine,  and  give  me  the  signal-  when  to  send 
her  off.' 

"The  idea  seemed  to  strike  him. 

"  '  Good  !  better  !  best ! '  be  exclaimed,  clapping  his 
hands,  and  shaking  mine.  •  But  mind,  don't  take  your 
eyes  off  me  ! ' 

"  '  That  I  shan't,'  I  said,  fervently,  as  he  opened  the 
window,  and  made  a  movement  as  if  to  pass  out  upon 
the  running  board. 

"My "heart  beat  high  again,  but  this  time  with  hope 
and  anticipation.  Once  outside,  he  would  be  at  my 
mercy  long  enough  for  me  to  whistle  down  brakes,  shut 
off  steam,  and  reverse  the  engine. 

"Alas  !  suddenly  he  turned,  slamming  the  window,  and 
then,  glaring  upon  me  like  a  demon,  he  hissed  : 

"  '  You've  betrayed  me !     What  did  I  tell  you  ? ' 

"  I  trembled  with  horror. 

"'Come,  come,'  I  said;  'no  I  haven't.  Go  ahead. 
See  !  there's  the  curve  just  ahead.  Hurry,  be  quick,  or 
the  chance  is  gone  ! ' 

" '  I  say  you've  betrayed  me,  and  I'm  going  to  kill 
you  !  I  heard  you  whisper  my  secret  a  moment  ago  ! ' 
and  he  came  toward  me  with  all  the  frenzy  and  savage 
cruelty  of  a  maniac. 

"'Now,'  thought  I,  'one  last  struggle  for  life  or 
death,'  and  mustering  all  my  force,  I  struck  him  a  fear- 
ful blow  with  my  clenched  fist  upon  the  forehead. 

"  Still  he  neared  me.  I  felt  his  long,  bony  hands  in 
my  hair.  I  staggered.  I  fell  backward ;  my  head  struck 
against  something  hard,  my  eyes  grew  dim,  and  I  lay  in- 
sensible." 

The  narrator  paused  for  a  moment,  and  passed  his 
great  rough  hand  across  his  forehead,  as  if  to  drive  away 


76  THE  MANIAC'S  RIDE. 

the  terrible  memories  his  story  had  recalled.  His  com- 
panions, mute  with  eager  interest,  only  drew  themselves 
nearer  as  he  resumed  : 

"  I  couldn't  have  lain  there  half  an  hour — for,  when  I 
came  to,  the  first  object  that  met  my  view  in  the  distant 
landscape  was  the  white  tower  of  the  Methodist  Church 

in  N .     I  was  lying  on  my  side,  between  the  engine 

and  tender,  with  my  head  half  over  the  edge. 

"  Weak  and  exhausted  from  loss  of  blood,  which  was 
still  flowing  from  the  wound  on  my  head,  I  lay  there 
helpless  and  hopeless.  My  eyes  wandered  to  where  the 
madman  was  still  standing.  I  saw  him  with  heightened 
wildness  on  his  countenance,  his  long  hair  floating  in  the 
wind  behind,  his  eye  glancing  eagerly  out  ahead,  his  lips 
muttering  words  to  me  incoherent  and  meaningless. 
Now  and  then  he  would  dance,  and  clap  his  hands  with 
a  fiendish  joy,  then  settle  quietly  down  again  to  his 
sullen  mutterings. 

"  The  rate  of  speed  at  which  we  were  moving  was  abso- 
lutely frightful — not  less,  I  should  think,  than  a  mile  a 
minute— and  I  feared  every  instant  the  crash  would  send 
me,  madman,  engine,  everything,  whirling  to  perdi- 
tion. 

"  As  each  moment  my  faculties  grew  stronger,  I  began 
to  realize,  in  all  its  force,  the  horror  of  my  situation. 
What  if  he  should  discover  in  me  signs  of  returning  life  ? 
He  would,  without  a  doubt,  throw  me  from  the  train,  or 
dash  my  brains  out.  Meanwhile,  where  was  the  con- 
ductor?    Perhaps  he  had  been  left  behind  at  H . 

The  brakemen — could  not  some  of  them  come  to  rescue 
me  ?  Had  not  our  wild  speed,  our  neglect  of  the  usual 
stoppages,  told  those  on  the  train  that  something  was 
certainly  wrong  ?    And  why,  then,  did  they  not  come  to 


THE  MANIAC'S  RIDE. 


77 


see  what  it  was  ?  Surely  an  end  must  soon  come  of  this 
horrible  affair,  in  some  way  or  another. 

"  Heavens  !  of  a  sudden  I  remembered  a  circumstance, 
the  thought  of  which  chilled  me  to  the  very  bones, 
and  well  might  make  me  cry  out  in  expostulation  and 
terror  to  the  terrible  being  before  me.     We  were  rapidly 

approaching   P bridge,  spanning  the   awful   chasm 

through   which,  far   below,    the   T river  leaps   and 

plunges,  in  three  successive  falls,  to  the  quiet  level  of  the 
valley  "below.  I  had  in  my  pocket  at  that  moment  a 
copy  of  a  telegraphic  order  from  the  division  superin- 
tendent, stating  that  the  westward-bound  track  on  the 
bridge  would  that  morning  be  taken  up  for  repairs,  and 
directing  all  trains  to  switch  off  on  approaching  the  spot, 
and  cross  on  the  eastward-bound  track. 

"  In  a  moment  all  the  horror  of  the  impending  disaster 
broke  upon  me.  Should  this  maniac  persist  in  his  mad 
purpose  only  ten  minutes  longer,  he  and  I,  and  all  of  us, 
would  be  precipitated  headlong  downward  through  the 
air,  crashing  through  the  timbers,  cars  and  engine  with 
us,  to  be  dashed  to  atoms  upon  the  pitiless,  jagged  rocks 
below.  Oh,  how  I  prayed  in  that  moment  for  forgiveness 
for  all  the  wickedness  of  the  past !  With  what  unspeaka- 
ble tenderness  I  recalled  the  parting  words  of  those  dear 
ones  whom  I  might  never  see  again,  and  how  I  inwardly 
asked  God  to  watch  over  them  after  I  was  gone  !  I  won- 
dered whether  they  would  ever  find  us,  or  know  the  real 
cause  of  the  catastrophe.  Eagerly,  I  watched  the  famil- 
iar landmarks  flitting  by,  as  on,  on,  on,  we  dashed,  faster 
and  faster,  toward  the  death  and  destruction  which  now 
seemed  all  but  inevitable. 

"I  heard  a  cry  of  wild  joy  from  my  companion,  as, 
gliding  like  lightning  around  a  curve,  the  valley,  and,  in 


78  THE  MANIAC'S  RIDE. 

the  distance,  the  massive  bridge,  were  first  disclosed  to 
his  view. 

"  '  Now !  now  ! '  he  shouted.  '  Here  we  are  come,  at 
last !  Science,  and  infinity,  and  all  the  unknown,  are 
mine,  mine,  mine,  forever !  He  betrayed  me,  did  he  ? 
and  he  died  like  a  dog  !     Ha  !  ha  !  ha ! ' 

"And  he  danced  and  screamed  with  a  horrid  zest, 
which,  mocking  my  anguish  and  terror,  only  made  me 
more  desperate.  I  tried  to  move — a  pang  of  agony  shot 
through  every  nerve,  and  muscle,  and  fibre  in  my  body. 
I  sunk  down  again,  in  utter  despair,  and  closed  my  eyes, 
waiting  for  death  to  come  and  end  it  all ! 

"  Crack — crack — whiz — whiz — a  scream — a  shout — 
another  crack — another  whiz  !  I  opened  my  eyes  once 
more.  The  madman  had  fallen  upon  his  knees,  and 
with  the  expression  of  a  demon  incarnate  upon  his  face, 
his  two  bared  arms  stretched  above  his  head,  his  power- 
ful form  writhing  in  horrible  contortion,  was  gnashing  his 
teeth,  while  his  eyes  protruded  from  their  sockets,  foam 
oozed  from  his  lips,  and  a  stream  of  blood,  ever  so  small, 
trickled  down  his  shirt  front. 

"'Come!  come!  come  quickly!'  I  called  out,  as 
loudly  as  I  could ;  but  my  feeble  voice  was  drowned  in 
the  clatter,  and  I  saw  the  monster,  weak  and  wounded 
as  he  was,  turn  and  crawl  upon  his  knees  toward  me. 

"  '  Come  !  for  God's  sake,  come  ! '  I  screamed ;  but 
by  that  time  his  clutches  were  upon  my  throat,  and  I 
looked  upward  to  the  clear  blue  morning  sky  above  us, 
to  feel  my  breath  growing  slower  and  slower,  as  the  cruel 
grip  grew  tighter  and  tighter  upon  me. 

"  The  coarse,  talon-like  grip  relaxed  of  a  sudden,  the 


THE  MANIAC'S  RIDE. 


79 


din  grew  less  and  less,  and  the  welcome  shriek  of  the 
whistle  for  down  brakes  sounded  in  my  ears  like  the 
voice  of  a  messenger  from  God,  calling  me  back  to  life, 
and  loved  ones,  and  all  that  was  dear.  I  felt  myself 
lifted  up  like  a  child  in  two  pairs  of  stout,  friendly  arms. 
I  heard  sobs,  and  shouts  of  joy,  and  the  movement  of 
many  feet  about  me,  and  a  voice  whispered  lovingly  in 
my  ear : 
"'  Saved  V" 


VIII. 


EVERYDAY   LIFE   ON   THE    RAIL. 

AMONG  THE  CONDUCTORS,  BAGGAGE-MEN,  TICKET-AGENTS,  AND  EXPRESSMEN. 

At  "  Jack  Short's  " — The  Conductor  in  his  Palace — Anecdotes  and 
Incidents,  Humorous  and  Pathetic — "This  Seat  is  engaged" — 
The  Major  and  his  Dog — A  Noble  Girl — "  Littlejohn's  killed." — 
"  Hanna  ! " — A  Non-Conductor — Whitaker's  Legacy — A  Tem- 
perance Pass — How  Sadd  punched  a  Ticket — Eckert  and  the 
Superintendent — A  Peanuts'  Rhyme — The  Road  to  Dathroit — 
"Ridin'  on  it  out  " — The  Passenger  with  the  Small-pox — Brad- 
ley's Girl — A  Square  Meal — How  a  Corpse  went  to  a  Dance — 
Dead-heads — An  Elopement — A  Birth  on  the  Cars — Kissing  in 
the  Tunnel  —  Drury's  Half-fares  —  Richardson's  Lunatic  —  A 
Blockhead  by  Express — Midnight  Murder — Checking  an  Edi- 
tor's Baggage — How  a  Baggage-man's  Scheme  exploded — Petty- 
bone's  Counterfeit — Reevy's  Ticket  Clerk — A  Kansas  Superin- 
tendent— Left  Behind — S'cat  !  Polly  Partington's  First  Ride — 
The  Commercial  Traveller  and  the  Maid — The  Postal  Service, 
etc.,  eta 


HE  author  makes  bold  to  affirm,  that  there  is  a 

"Jack  Short's"  on  every  respectable  American 

railway.      A  pleasant,  quiet  place,  where  there 

are  light  wines,  and  ale  on  draught,  in  the  front 

room,  and  a  constant  draught  of  fresh  air  in  the  rear 

apartment.     Pipes,  tobacco,  cigars,  an  easy-chair,  and  a 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  8 1 

place  for  your  feet.  In  winter,  a  warm  fire,  hot  water, 
heavier  wines,  and  oysters  stewed  and  fried.  An  institu- 
tion as  necessary  to  a  road,  as  important  a  part  of  the 
running  gear  as  the  turn-table,  round-house,  or  switch. 
Here  conductors  side-track  when  off  duty,  and  run  into 
a  cosey  little  round-house  of  their  own.  At  these  places 
of  rendezvous,  time-tables  are  ignored,  special  and  gen- 
eral orders  powerless.  The  edicts  of  the  train  dis- 
patcher cannot  enter  here,  and  invitations  from  super- 
intendents to  "come"  or  "go"  are  of  no  avail.  The 
conductor  is  king,  and  this  is  his  palace.  He  is  running 
on  his  own  time,  with  plenty  of  margin ;  no  wild  trains 
on  his  track,  nothing  to  follow  or  to  flag.  His  engineer, 
fireman,  and  brakeman,  surround  him,  bound  together 
by  railway  ties,  stronger  than  wood,  and  firmer  than  steel. 
It  is  his  little  court,  where  manhood,  experience,  and 
faithful  service  command  homage,  and  right  gallantly 
do  these  brave  hearts  yield  to  each  that  which  is  his 
due. 

"Jack  Short's,"  a  popular  resort  for  Western  conduct- 
ors, has  numerous  branches.  At  Chicago,  Indianapolis, 
St.  Louis,  Omaha,  Cincinnati;  at  "Jim  Turner's,"  on 
the  Erie  ;  Jersey  City,  or  the  West  End ;  at  Mills',  on  the 
Hudson  River ;  Jewett's  office,  or  the  St.  Nicholas,  at 
Kansas  City ;  in  Mr.  C.  N.  Lee's  room  at  Quincy ;  at 
"Billy  Thompson's,"  at  Dayton,  Ohio,  etc.,  etc., — wher- 
ever there  is  a  railroad  and  a  "run,"  there  is  a  "Jack 
Short's,"  where  conductors  meet  to  gossip  and  joke,  and 
mayhap,  live  over  the  horrors  of  hairbreadth  escapes. 

So  we  join  the  conductors  of  various  roads  at  "  Jack 

•Short's"  to-night,  and,  getting  a  good  seat,  will  ride  with 

them  as  far  as  they  go.     The  author  does  not  give  the 

names  of  roads  represented  in  every  instance,  his  object 

4* 


82  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

being  merely  to  introduce  the  men  themselves,  who  re- 
late their  incidents  in  their  own  way. 

"Beer  for  the  boys,  Jack — some  matches,  and  we'll 
commence  our  yarns." 

"  '  That  seat  is  engaged,'  said  a  pretty  young  maid, 
As  I  entered  a  carriage  one  day ; 
'  To  whom  ? '     'A  young  gentleman,'  pouting,  she  said  ; 
1  Then  where  is  his  baggage,  I  pray  ? ' 

"  Her  ruby  lips  opened  like  rosebuds  in  spring, 
Her  face  in  deep  blushes  was  dyed, 
As  muttering  crossly,  '  You  hateful  old  thing ! 
Why,  I  am  his  baggage,'  she  cried." 

"  That  was  on  my  train,"  said  Howland,  "  coming  out 
of  Burlington  ;  but  I  never  supposed  it  would  be  told  in 
that  way." 

"  I  run  out  of  Indianapolis,  and  you  may  call  me 
'Major'  for  the  want  of  a  better  name.  I  am  as  fond 
of  dogs  as  Cole  Wilson  is  of  cats.  Lately  I  came  in  pos- 
session of  a  Newfoundland,  which  didn't  turn  out  well, 
and  I  was  at  a  loss  to  know  how  to  dispose  of  it.  In 
this  emergency  a  happy  thought  struck  me  ;  and  on  my 
next  trip  the  dog  occupied  a  berth  in  the  baggage-car, 
till  the  train  reached  a  little  station  away  down  the 
road. 

"As  the  station-agent  appeared,  I  said,  'Here,  Jones, 
take  out  this  dog,  and  keep  it  till  the  owner  calls  for  it ! ' 

"  '  All  right !  any  charges  ? ' 

"  '  Collect  fifty  cents ;  you  can  keep  the  money  if  you 
want  to.' 

"  Next  time  I  passed  that  way  the  agent  hailed  me  : 

"  '  Look  here,  nobody's  called  for  that  dog  yet ! ' 

"  '  You  don't  say  so  !  Well,  the  owner  '11  be  along  soon.' 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  83 

"  <  Whaf  s  his  name  ? ' 
►      "  'Name?     Oh,  his  name's  Smith.' 

"  '  But  'spose  he  don't  call  ? ' 

"  '  Oh,  if  he  don't  call,  you  can  just  keep  the  dog,  you 
know.' 

"At  last  accounts,  Jones  was  keeping  the  dog  and 
cursing  the  delinquent  Smith." 

"  My  name  is  Nelson,  and  I  run  out  of  Albany.  I 
don't  mind  telling  the  thing  now,  but  I  felt  pretty  cheap  at 
the  time.  I  sometimes  think  the  Company  ought  to  allow 
a  conductor  a  little  heart  and  judgment  occasionally,  but 
it's  the  safest  plan,  perhaps,  in  the  long  run,  to  obey  the 
rules. 

"As  my  train  was  approaching  the  Suspension  Bridge 
near  Niagara,  on  this  occasion,  I  found  a  young  man 
who  could  not  pay  his  fare.  The  poor  fellow  was  evi- 
dently in  the  last  stage  of  consumption,  and  emaciated 
to  skeleton  proportions.  He  sat  by  himself,  and  his 
eyes  were  red,  as  though  he  had  been  weeping.  But  the 
laws  of  the  Company  could  not  be  transgressed,  and  he 
must  leave  the  train.  No  conductor  knows  when  a 
detective  may  be  watching  him,  so  I  led  him  with  a 
heavy  heart  from  his  seat.  He  was  all  shivering  with 
the  cold,  and  no  one  moved  or  spoke  until  we  reached 
the  door.  Here  a  beautiful  girl  arose  from  her  seat,  and 
with  bright,  sparkling  eyes,  demanded  the  amount  charged 
for  the  poor  invalid.  I  told  her  eight  dollars,  and  the 
young  and  noble  girl  took  that  amount  from  her  pocket- 
book,  and  kindly  led  the  sick  youth  back  to  his  seat. 
The  action  put  to  shame  several  men  who  had  witnessed 
it,  and  they  offered  to  '  pay  half,'  but  the  whole-souled 
woman  refused  the  assistance.  When  our  train  arrived 
in  Albany,  the  young  protectress  gave  him  money  enough 


84  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

to  keep  him  over  night,  and  send  him  to  his  friends  the, 
next  morning. 

"  'What  was  her  name,  Nels?' 

"  Well,  as  I  said  before,  I  felt  a  little  cheap  over  the 
part  I  was  forced  to  play  in  the  affair,  so  I  hunted  her 
up,  and  on  the  first  leisure  evening,  called  to  return  the 
eight  dollars.  This  she  indignantly  refused,  but  I  sub- 
sequently persuaded  her  to  accept  of  a  suitable  present 
at  my  hands. 

"'Well,  what  else?' 

"  I  finally  persuaded  her  to  take  me  too,  and  she's  just 
the  best  wife  and  mother  on  the  road." 

"  My  name  is  Peters,  for  that  matter,  and  I  am  only  a 
country  conductor,  running  a  train  that  is  freight  one  day 
and  passenger  the  next.  I  am  brakeman  and  switch- 
man besides.  A  couple  living  at  Le  Mars,  Iowa,  a  station 
on  our  road,  were  anxious  to  have  their  child  baptized. 
One  day  I  had  a  priest  aboard,  and  seeing  him  on  the 
platform  as  we  came  into  Le  Mars,  this  couple  got  on  the 
train,  and  the  child  was  baptized  while  we  were  going  at 
the  rate  of  thirty  miles  an  hour.  The  happy  couple  got 
off  at  the  next  station,  and  took  the  first  train  homeward- 
bound." 

"You  remember  Littlejohn,  don't  you,  boys?"  asked 
Neal  Ruggles. 

"Yes,  he's  running  now  on  the  Central  California, 
Bob  Matteson's  road." 

"  Littlejohn  was  coming  down  the  grade  pretty  fast 
one  trip,  with  his  sweetheart  aboard,  when  the  engine  ran 
into  a  lot  of  solid  beef,  throwing  her  off  the  track,  tem- 
porarily, but  doing  no  other  damage.  Fragments  of  one 
of  the  animals  came  through  the  window,  door,  or  some 
opening,  and  lodged  in  sweetheart's  lap. 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


85 


" '  Oh,  Littlejohn's  killed ! '  she  screamed,  jumping 
frantically  to  her  feet,  and  surveying  the  bloody  remind- 
ers. 'Oh,  Littlejohn's  killed — he's  killed/'  and  she  re- 
fused to  be  comforted  until  Littlejohn  made  his  appear- 
ance, and  took  her  in  charge." 

"I  am  on  the  Pittsburg,  Fort  Wayne,  and  Chicago 
Road,"  said  Watson,  "and  we  have  a  station  called 
'  Hanna''in  honor  of  a  deceased  citizen  of  Fort  Wayne. 

"When  we  stopped  there  the  other  day,  my  brakeman 
thrust  his  head  inside  the  door,  as  usual,  and  called  out 
'Hanha,'  loud  and  long.  A  young  lady,  probably  en- 
dowed with  the  poetic  appellation  of  Hannah,  supposing 
he  was  addressing  her,  and  shocked  at  his  familiarity  on 
so  short  an  acquaintance,  frowned  like  a  thunder-cloud, 
and  retorted,  '  Shut  your  mouth ! ' 

"  He  shut  it ! " 

"  '  Old'  fatty  Hurlbut,  of  the  New  York  Central,  used 
to  carry  a  heap  of  brine  with  him  on  his  trips,  both  inside 
and  out.  He  was  finally  discharged,  and  going  home 
one  day,  found  that  his  wife  had  caused  the  lightning-rods 
to  be  taken  off  his  house  and  sold. 

"  'Why  did  you  do  that?  '  said  he  ;  '  ain't  you  afraid 
you'll  be  struck  with  lightning?' 

"  'Not  when  you  are  around,'  she  replied;  'ain't  you 
a  non-conductor  ? '  " 

"  Here,  Jack,"  said  one,  "  bring  us  the  slops  on  that ; 
it's  a  little  too  old  and  thin." 

"  I  am  a  brakeman  on  the  Erie  Road,  and  they  call  me 
'  Ambrose,'  for  short.  I  thought  I  would  turn  in  a  joke 
on  Horace  W.  Whitaker,  my  conductor,  for  you  may  bet 
he'll  never  tell  it  on  himself.  He  was  collecting  tickets 
one  day  from  his  passengers,  and  all  handed  over  their 
pasteboard,  save  one  old  lady  who  sat  next  the  door,  near 


$6  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

where  I  stood.  She  seemed  to  be  reaching  down  to  get 
something  she  had  dropped  on  the  floor.  When  her  time 
to  pay  came,  she  raised  her  head  and  thus  addressed  the 
blushing  conductor  : 

" '  I  allurs,  when  I  travels,  carry  my  money  in  my 
stockin',  for  you  sees,  nothin'  can  get  at  it  thar,  and  I'd 
just  thank  you,  young  man,  just  to  reach  it  for  me,  as  I'm 
so  jammed  in  that  I  can't  git  to  it.  I  forgot  to  git  a  ticket 
at  the  depot.'  '  Whit '  glanced  at  the  other  passengers, 
some  of  whom  were  laughing  at  his  plight ;  one  or  two 
young  ladies  among  them  blushed  scarlet,  and  he  beat  a 
sudden  retreat,  muttering  something  about  not  charging 
old  ladies,  etc.  His  cash  was  short  that  trip  the  fare  of 
one  passenger." 

George  Alexander — "  My  run  leads  into  a  temperance 
town,  which  I  will  call  Alesburg,  division  headquarters. 
Nobody  drinks  there,  and  every  man,  woman,  and  child  is 
an  apostle  of  temperance.  Every  citizen  of  any  promise 
is  a  temperance  lecturer,  and  the  wayfarer,  bibulously  in- 
clined, must  get  a  prescription  before  he  can  get  a  drink. 
Colic  prevails  there  to  an  alarming  extent,  and  the  hea- 
then go  about  armed  with  blank  prescriptions  ready  for 
immediate  service  the  moment  the  first  symptom  comes 
on.  This  model  town  is  out  of  Chicago  about  160  miles, 
and  I  have  known  leading  citizens  to  lose  confidence  in 
the  Alesburg  prescriptions,  and  hurry  to  the  metropolis 
for  relief. 

"  Not  long  ago,  a  well-known  citizen  of  the  '  Burg,'  some- 
what noted  for  his  crusades  against  saloons,  hunted  me 
up  in  Chicago,  and  wanted  to  know  if  I  was  going  to 
take  the  train  to  Alesburg  that  night.  Told  him  I  was,  and 
noticed  that  the  symptoms  of  Prairie  Colic  were  rapidly 
developing.     He  had  come  in  with  some  of  the  boy,  she 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


*7 


said,  and  staying  longer  than  he  had  intended,  his  pass 
had  run  out,  and  his  money  too,  and  his  friends  had  gone 
off  and  left  him.' 

" '  Very  bad  predicament  indeed,'  I  said, '  for  a  respect- 
able temperance  man  of  Alesburg,  but  I  don't  see  what 
I  can  do  for  you  ;  the  rules  are  very  strict.' 

"  He  replied  '  that  if  he  was  made  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Harris,  our  general  superintendent,  he  would  return  his 
old  pass  and  ask  for  a  new  one.' 

"  What  entitled  him  to  a  pass  I  never  knew,  but  I  told 
him  I  would  introduce  him  to  Mr.  Harris  at  once,  for  I 
feared  the  colic  was  on  him  in  full  force.  He  left  me 
and  returned  in  about  fifteen  minutes  with  at  least  two 
more  colics  ahead.  I  accompanied  him  to  Mr.  Harris' 
office,  introduced  him,  and  he  presented  his  pass,  asking 
politely  for  a  new  one. 

"  Mr.  Harris  seemed  much  perplexed  in  his  examina- 
tion of  that  pass.  Finally  he  returned  it,  remarking,  with 
a  peculiar   smile,  '  Sir,    there   is   some   mistake.     This 

seems  to  be  a  prescription  from  Dr. ,  asking  Mr. , 

a  druggist  of  Alesburg,  to  give  bearer  one  quart  of  what  I 
suppose  stands  for  whiskey — for  colic.  You  have  given 
me  the  wrong  paper.' 

"  I  left  my  fellow-citizen  searching  nervously  in  his 
pockets  for  his  pass,  but  never  learned  how  he  got  home." 

"I  was  going  to  tell  you,"  said  George  Boynton, 
"  about  the  fellow  that  couldn't  come  it  over  Ed.  Sadd. 
We  had  a  very  energetic  waterman  named  Spielman, 
who  got  in  the  very  bad  habit  of  doubling  on  his  pass. 
The  boys  on  the  main  line  passenger  resolved  to  stop 
it,  by  punching  the  pass  every  time  it  was  shown.  The 
consequence  was,  Spielman  had  to  make  application  for 
a  new  one.     The  boys,   not  at   all   discouraged,  soon 


88  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

punched  up  pass  No.  2.  When  S.  got  his  third  pass,  he 
procured  a  piece  of  sole  leather  same  size  as  pass,  and 
about  a  quarter  of  an  inch  thick.  On  this  he  pasted  his 
pass,  and  Mr.  S.  was  ahead. 

"  It  so  happened  that  he  got  on  Ed.  Sadd's  train.  Our 
conductor,  intent  on  ruining  Spiel  man's  pass,  asked,  as 
usual,  to  see  it.  The  weighty  article  was  brought  forth, 
and  the  conductor's  countenance  dropped.  The  water- 
man saw  his  discomfiture,  and  said  with  a  smile, 

"  '  I  think  I  have  stopped  that  punching  business,  Mr. 
Sadd — there's  been  a  conspiracy  against  me,  you  see.' 

" '  Yes,  I  see,'  replied  Sadd,  scratching  his  head. 
'  Please  raise  that  window  a  moment,  Mr.  Spielman,  and 
I'll  punch  your  pass  ! ' 

"  Mr.  Spielman  raised  the  window — the  train  being  in 
full  motion — and  Sadd,  drawing  a  small  pocket  pistol, 
put  a  hole  through  the  centre  of  the  pass. 

"'How's  that  for  a  punch?'  said  Sadd,  as  he  went 
on  down  the  car.     The  boys  call  it  a  Sadd  affair." 

Major  Martin,  of  the  Cincinnati,  Hamilton,  and  Dayton 
Road,  has  a  good  one  on  Billy  Eckert  of  the  same  run  : 

"  Eckert  was  a  telegraph  operator  in  the  Burnett  House 
at  Cincinnati,  and  was  very  popular  with  railway  men, 
many  of  whom  stopped  at  that  elegant  establishment. 
Different  influences  were  brought  to  bear,  and  he  finally 
got  a  passenger  train  on  the  Cincinnati,  Hamilton,  and 
Dayton,  without  going  through  the  usual  apprenticeship. 

"  Ira  A.  Wood  was  general  supt,  I  think,  though 
Eckert  had  never  seen  him.  •  John  Lincoln,  who  '  learned' 
Eckert  the  road,  told  him  the  Company  was  a  new  one, 
and  very  jealous  of  its  rules.  Nothing  would  advance 
him  so  rapidly  in  official  favor  as  a  strict  adherence  to 
and  enforcement  of  all  rules.     '  Billy '  felt  a  little  proud 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


89 


of  his  conductor's  silver  badge,  and  when  he  stepped  on 
his  first  train  at  the  Cincinnati  depot,  he  felt  that  he 
owned  considerable  stock  in  the  C,  H.  &  D.  As  he 
approached  Glendale,  he  ran  into  his  first  obstruction. 
This  was  a  corpulent  individual,  seated  modestly  in  the 
rear  end  of  a  car,  who  was  without  a  pass  or  a  ticket. 
Eckert  told  him  the  rules  were  very  strict,  allowing  the 
conductor  no  margin  whatever. 

"  '  How  long  have  you  been  on  the  road  ?  Have  you 
a  card,  sir?' 

" '  Yes.'  Billy  had  a  fresh  bunch  of  cards  just  printed. 
Gave  the  fat  man  one ;  adding  that  this  was  his  first 
trip. 

" '  Ah !  I  thought  as  much.  Well,  sir,  my  name  is 
Wood;  I  am  the  general  superintendent  of  this  road. 
Sometimes  carry  a  pass,  but  left  it  to-day  in  another  coat 
at  my  office  in  Cincinnati.' 

"  '  Sorry,  indeed,  sir.  But  there  are  so  many  with  the 
best  of  excuses  who  are  put  off.  The  Company  assures 
me  that  every  one  entitled  to  a  pass  will  have  one  with 
them,  and  that  excuses  will  not  balance  my  account.  I 
do  not  know  you,  sir,  and  have  no  right  to  know  you 
without  your  pass.' 

" '  Young  man,  you  are  right.  I  am  only  going  to 
Hamilton,  twenty  miles.  The  agent  there  is  my  brother. 
When  we  get  in,  we'll  go  together  and  see  him.  Here 
is  my  fare.' 

"  Eckert  took  the  fare  with  a  trembling  hand,  with  a 
vague  idea  that  he  had  gained  a  victory,  though  what 
sort  of  a  one,  was  yet  uncertain. 

"  Now  everybody  in  Hamilton  knew  old  Yankee 
Wood,  a  regular  Connecticut  wooden  nutmegger;  six 
feet  five  in  his  stockings,  weighing  300  pounds ;  with  a 


9Q 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


nasal  twang  that  could  be  heard  for  miles.  This  was  the 
agent,  and  Eckert  had  learned  about  him  as  soon  as  any 
other  big  point  on  the  road.  When  they  got  to  Hamil- 
ton, '  Yankee '  was  on  the  platform  talking  to  old  man 
Earhart,  the  ticket-agent.  Billy's  passenger  stuck  to 
him,  and  as  soon  as  he  got  out,  '  Yankee '  and  Earhart 
rushed  up  to  him  with  friendly  greeting.  Another  mo- 
ment, and  '  Billy '  was  formally  introduced  to  the  general 
supt. 

"  From  that  time  forward  Eckert  rose  rapidly  in  the 
estimation  of  that  Company,  and  was  gradually  promoted 
to  a  high  position.  Lincoln,  for  like  fidelity  to  rules  and 
regulations,  was  appointed  supt.  of  the  branch  line,  run- 
ning from  Hamilton  through  Oxford,  to  Crawfordsville. 
Groat  and  Pettybone,  formerly  conductors  on  the  same 
line,  are  now  at  the  head  of  prominent  railways. 

"  This  was  at  a  time  when  railway  men  looked  upon 
superintendents  as  a  species  of  deity  to  be  worshipped 
and  feared,  and  Eckert*  s  adventure  was  then  considered 
remarkable  in  its  way." 

Wiers — "  It  is  the  safest  policy  in  the  long  run  to 
obey  the  rules.  This  is  what  my  Peanuts  *  thinks  about 
it. 

"A  PEANUTS'   RHYME. 

"  '  I've  been  a  Peanuts  now  for  several  years, 

I'm  running  here  with — maybe  you  know  him — Wiers. 
I  keeps  my  eyes  wide  open,  and  sometimes — 
Picks  up  an  idea,  with  my  little  dimes. 

"  *  I  ain't  no  learning,  so  to  speak  ;  you  see, 
The  old  man  got  killed  in  1863. 
And  mother  she  was  poor,  and  I  was  strong, 
And  so  I've  been  a  Peanuts,  right  along. 

*  "  Peanuts  " — Train  Boy. 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  91 

" '  I've  seen  how  things  are  run,  on  these  'ere  roads ; 
I've  seen  good  fellows  carry  heavy  loads ; 
There's  Coleman — passed  his  only  brother  in, 
And  got  discharged,  for  helping  his  own  kin. 

"  •  And  there  was  Hawley,  he  was  sent  adrift, 
For  giving  a  old  lady  a  free  lift — 
A  conductor's  mother  and  a  friend  o'  his — 
You  see  perliteness  ain'  t  the  payin'  biz  ! 

"  *  And  so  to  all  employes  I  would  say, 

Hog  up  a  pass,  or  else  you  pay  your  way. 
The  Company's  got  to  hev  some  sort  o'  rules, 
If  you  don't  obey  'em,  you're  the  derndest  fools. 

"  '  Whole  families  sometimes  come  to  want  and  woe 
By  conductors  failin'  to  spit  out  a  "  No."' 
On  this  ere  road  you  dasn't  pass  yo*»r  mother, 
And  if  it  doesn't  suit,  why,  try  another.'  " 

"  There  is  nothing  so  funny  as  the  newly  arrived  son  of 
the  '  Green  Isle  of  the  Sea,'  who  is  sure  he  is  not  going 
to  be  done,  and  determined  to  show  the  Yankees  that  he 
is  as  sharp  as  any  '  wan  uv  'em.'  I  am  a  ticket-agent, 
and  my  office  is  in  the  International  Hotel  at  Suspension 
Bridge.  One  of  the  class  mentioned  stepped  into  my 
office  the  other  day,  and  the  following  dialogue  ensued : 

Pat — "  Shure  is  this  the  road  to  Dathroit  ?" 

Agent — "  Yes,  send  you  right  through." 

Pat — "  Shure  it's  the  rale  road  I  mane,  an'  none  o' 
thim  chatin'  turnpikes." 

Agent — "  You  want  to  go  by  the  Great  Western  from 
Suspension  Bridge  or  the  Grand  Trunk  from  Buffalo  ?" 

Pat — "  Divil  a  bit !  I've  no  clothes  for  a  trunk,  let 
alone  money  for  the  buyin'  uv  wun." 

Agent — "  Well,  you  want  to  go  to  Detroit  and  M ?" 

Pat— "  Shure  I  do." 


92 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON   THE  RAIL. 


Agent — "Which  line  will  you  take?" 

Pat — "  Och  !  any  line,  shure — a  fish-line  for  a  throut 
or  two,  perhaps." 

Agetit — "  No,  no ;  how  would  you  like  to  go — which 
way  ?  " 

Pat — "  How  would  I  like  to  go  ?  Shure,  like  a  gen- 
tlemon,  an'  the  same  way  me  cousin,  Mick  Dolan,  wint." 

Agent — "  And  what  way  was  that  ?  " 

Pat — "  Shure  he  said  it  was  a  mighty  quick  way." 

Agent — "Then  you  want  a  ticket  on  the  express  line  ; 
give  me  ten  dollars." 

Pat — "Tin  dollass !  What  would  I  give  yees  tin  dol- 
lassfur?" 

Agent — "  For  your  ticket  by  the  express." 

Pat — "  Shure  it's  no  express  I  warnt  at  all ;  it's  the 
way  to  Dathroit." 

Agent — "  I  know  that;  but  there  are  three  'ways,'  as 
you  call  'em — Express,  Trunk  line,  and  Central ;  what 
will  you  take  ?  " 

Pat  (puzzled)—"  Ah— eh  ! " 

Agent  (leaning  over  the  counter) — "  Come,  my  good 
fellow,  what  will  you  take  ?  " 

Pat  (glancing  at  a  big  ink-bottle  that  stood  on  the 
counter) — "Shure  I'll  take  a  dhrop  o'  whiskey,  if  it's  the 
same  to  yur  honor." 

(This  reply  elicited  an  explosion  of  laughter  from  half 
a  dozen  other  ticket-agents  who  were  in  the  same  office, 
one  of  whom,  thinking  to  better  matters,  took  Pat  in 
hand. ) 

Agent — "  You  want  to  go  to  Detroit  ?  " 

Pat — "  You  may  say  that." 

Agent — "  And  you  want  to  buy  a  ticket  ?  " 

Pat— "  Divil  a  bit." 


EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL.  93 

Agent — "  What  do  you  want,  then  ?  " 

Pat — "  Shure  I  warnt  to  know  the  way  to  go  to  Da- 
throit." 

Agent — "Well,  buy  a  ticket,  and  that  will  show  you 
the  way." 

Pat — "  But  won't  yure  show  me  the  way  ?  " 

Agent — "But  how  can  you  get  there  without  the 
ticket  ?  " 

Pat — "  Shure  I  mane  to  walk." 

There  were  two  ticket-agents,  but  no  ticket  was  sold 
by  this  operation. 

At  the  next  gathering — occurring  perhaps  a  thousand 
miles  away — Barton  began  : 

"I  was  running  on  the  Cincinnati  and  Indianapolis 
Road,  when  I  came  across  a  queer  customer.  This  was 
a  tall,  awkward  Hoosier,  who  got  on  at  Lawrenceburg 
with  a  heavy  valise.  I  had  not  been  on  the  road  very 
long,  and  Hoosiers  were  still  a  novelty,  so  I  watched  my 
passenger  with  more  than  usual  interest.  He  took  his 
valise  to  a  double  seat,  and  sitting  down  in  one,  emptied 
the  valise  in  the  other.  There  were  yellow-covered 
novels  enough  in  that  seat  to  have  started  an  Indiana 
book-store.  He  found  room  somewhere  for  his  feet,  and 
taking  up  one  of  the  books,  was  fixed  for  the  trip.  When 
I  called  for  tickets  he  showed  me  a  life -pass  from  the 
general  superintendent,  written  in  the  form  of  a  letter, 
and  of  course  I  thought  my  passenger  was  a  man  of  some 
consequence.  All  railway  superintendents  try  to  write 
illegible  hands ;  they  seem  to  look  upon  such  an  accom- 
plishment as  an  evidence  of  genius,  but  the  general 
superintendent  of  that  road  beat  them  all. 

"When  I  came  out  of  Indianapolis  on  the  return  trip, 
my  Hoosier  was  on  the  train  in  a  double  seat,  books  and 


94 


EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL. 


all.  So  it  was  for  ten  or  a  dozen  trips.  He  was  the  first 
to  mount  the  train,  and  the  last  man  to  leave  it. 

"  Finally  I  accosted  him  one  day  with — 

" '  Stranger,  which  way  ?  ' 

" '  Any  way,'  he  replied,  without  taking  his  eyes  off  the 
book — '  Any  way,  damn  the  odds  ! ' 

" '  I  mean  which  way  are  you  travelling  ;  ain't  you  in 
the  wrong  train  ? ' 

"  '  Indianapolis  Road,  isn't  it  ? ' 

"  '  Yes,'  I  answered. 

"  '  Wal,  that's  my  road ;  drive  on  ! ' 

"Being  a  constant  customer,  I  got  acquainted  with 
him  at  last,  and  this  was  his  explanation  : 

" '  You  see,  this  darned  road  runs  through  the  old  man's 
farm,  down  there  near  Lawrenceburg.  When  the  fellers 
was  buildin  on  it,  the  old  man  he  fit  'em.  He  sued  'em, 
and  the  gineral  super,  sent  him  a  family  pass  for  life,  and 
Ttn  a-ridirt  on  it  out  / ' 

"I  couldn't  get  it  through  me  at  all,  and  when  we  got 
to  Cincinnati  I  persuaded  him  to  accompany  me  to 
headquarters,  where  I  assured  him  the  'gineral  super.' 
would  do  the  fair  thing.  An  expert  there  translated  his 
life-pass,  which  read  as  follows  : 

" «  Office  Gen'l  Supt.  Cin.  &  Ind.  R.  R. 

"  'May— ,  18— 
"  *  J.   Van  Buskirk,  Lawrenceburg. 

"  '  Don't  disturb  the  men,  as  you  value  your  life  ;  let  them  pass 
through.  Come  or  send  one  of  your  family  to  this  office,  and  the 
matter  will  be  satisfactorily  arranged. 

"  '  Conductors  will  recognize  this  as  a  pass. 

"* Gen'l  Supt: 

"  As  nobody  could  read  but  a  word  here  and  there  of 


EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL. 


95 


this  scrawl,  the  fellow  would  have  been  riding  to  this  day 
if  I  had  not  brought  about  that  translation." 

"  I  am  Charley  Nourse,  conductor  on  the  New  Jersey 
Central.  During  the  recent  Small-pox  terror  in  the  East- 
ern cities,  the  trains  out  of  town  were  running  very  full. 
I  have  pulled  out  of  the  depot  at  the  foot  of  Liberty 
street  (N.  Y.)  many  a  time,  and  left  crowds  of  anxious 
people  who  were  unable  to  get  on. 

"  One  trip,  after  every  seat  was  occupied,  an  old  gentle- 
man entered  the  middle  coach  and  stood  up  near  the 
door.  As  we  approached  the  first  station,  it  was  noticed 
that  there  were  several  suspiciously  red  spots  on  his  face. 
As  he  stood  where  every  one  must  see  him,  the  alarm 
soon  spread.  One  inquisitive  chap  asked  him  if  he  had 
had  the  small-pox,  and  he  said  '  Yes.'  There  was  a  gen- 
eral scramble  among  the  passengers,  all  of  whom  wanted 
to  get  out  right  there.  Another  moment  and  we  were  at 
the  station,  when  the  old  gentleman  had  the  car  to  him- 
self. I  heard  of  the  trouble,  of  course,  and  at  this  junc- 
ture cautiously  peeped  into  the  car. 

"  'How  long  has  it  been, my  friend,  since  you  recovered 
from  the  small-pox  ? ' 

" '  Well,  sir,'  replied  the  victim  of  the  disease,  '  I  can- 
not exactly  say,  but  as  near  as  I  can  recollect,  it  was 
about  thirty-five  years  ago.'  " 

"  If  there  is  no  one  to  sing  a  song,  I'll  read  you  this 
rhyme,"  said  Frank  Hughs,  of  the  Quincy  run. 

"  Good,  who  is  it  from  ?  " 

"Well,  the  incident  occurred  in  1869.  It  is  told  by  a 
well-known  conductor — Joe  Cormick — now  running  on 
the  Illinois  Central." 

This  promised  something  extra,  and  the  boys  filled 
their  pipes  again. 


96  EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL. 


"BRADLEY'S  GIRL. 
"a  conductor's  rhyme. 

"  On  the  Central  Road  in  '69— 

Time  midnight — snowing  hard, 
The  plough  ahead,  in  six-feet  drift, 

Four  hours  behind — by  card. 
The  rails  all  water — thick  with  ice, 

And  a  high  old  prairie  air, 
Our  wood  and  coal  fast  giving  out— 

Ah!  that  was  a  time  to  swear. 

"  Some  sixty  miles  from  Augustine, 

The  point  to  meet  my  mate — 
Change  engines  and  obtain  supplies, 

Then  leave  him  to  his  fate. 
And  there  to  meet  the  young  girl's  friends, 

But  would  they  bear  in  mind 
That  wind  and  snow  were  in  our  front, 

And  we — four  hours  behind  ? 

"The  berths  on  Pullman's  car  were  full, 

Before  we  left  the  Lake ; 
And  half  a  dozen  Throughs  stood  up, 

All  swearing  to  keep  awake. 
And  every  coach  had  twice  its  load, 

As  much  as  we  could  pull : 
You  see  the  Christmas  times  were  on, 

And  trains  were  running  full. 

"  The  cold  increased,  of  course,  when  wood 

And  coal  were  getting  low  ; 
My  people  shivered,  and  I  knew 

The  worst  was  coming  now. 
I  felt  concerned  about  the  girl, 

Though  I  saw  she  still  slept  on  ; 
I  did  my  best — but  then,  you  know, 

The  odds  were  ten  to  one. 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  97 

'*  Maybe  you  know  old  Bradley,  boys, 

Who  runs  on  the  Central  Branch ; 
As  true  a  man  as  swings  a  lamp — 

Well — this  was  his  daughter — Blanche. 
A  fair  young  thing  in  feeble  health, 

From  a  '  Water-Cure'  somewhere, 
Now  coming  home  at  Christmas  time, 

And  riding  in  my  care. 

"  I  got  his  message,  and  the  girl, 

Where  we  met  Jule  Coleman's  train  ; 
Just  time  enough  to  lift  her  in, 

No  leisure  to  explain. 
A  way-man  kindly  gave  his  seat, 

The  best  that  we  could  do ; 
She  thanked  us,  went  to  sleep,  and  then 

The  snow-plough's  whistle  blew. 

'*  That  was  the  way  it  was,  you  see, 

We  got  four  hours  behind ; 
Snowed  in — some  fifty  miles,  at  least, 

From  help  of  any  kind. 
Maybe  the  tale  is  old  to  you, 

But  you  never  heard  the  end — 
That's  kept  a  secret  with  us  three — 

Old  Brad. — his  wife,  and — friend. 

"  Eight-twenty  was  the  time,  I  think, 

Yes,  Brad,  and  her  friends  were  there  ; 
Young  girls  in  black — a  white-plumed  hearse, 

And  a  preacher  with  a  prayer. 
God  !  what  a  Christmas  Gift  was  that ! — 

All  for  the  best,  'twas  said — 
•—The  Christmas  bells  are  ringing  now, — 

Maybe  some  young  girl's  dead!" 

Charlie  Fox,  of  the  Erie  Road,  said  that "  Jim  Turner's 
was  the  first  '  Hash  Shop'  out  of  New  York  on  that  road 
5 


98  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

A  passenger  stopped  there  one  day  and  put  away  twenty 
minutes'  worth  of  refreshments.  Calling  for  his  bill  Jim 
struck  him  for  a  dollar. 

"  'Little  high,  ain't  you,  Mr.  Turner? '  asked  the  inno- 
cent passenger. 

" '  Sir,  no,  sir.     I  never  drink.' 

"  '  No,  but  ain't  a  dollar  a  good  deal  for  a  meal  ? ' 

"  '  Not  where  a  man  eats  a  good  deal  and  takes  a  des- 
sert besides." 

"'All right,  sir,'  and  the  passenger  answered  the  'All 
aboard.' 

"When  we  got  in,  my  passenger  asked  me  to  show  him 
to  the  telegraph  office.  He  told  the  operator  he  wanted 
to  telegraph  Mr.  Turner  in  regard  to  meals  for  himself 
and  friends,  and  wrote  an  unusually  long  message.  The 
operator  said  Mr.  Turner  would  be  glad  to  pay  the  ex- 
pense at  the  other  end.  So  the  message  went  through, 
and  must  have  cost  Jim  four  dollars  and  a  half !  Good 
deal  for  a  meal ! " 

Fenton — "  I  am  only  a  common  express  messenger, 
but  I  reckon  I've  a  right  to  put  a  word  in  here,  to  be 
checked  off  with  the  rest." 

"  Certainly,  only  it  is  about  time  now  for  some  more 
of  that  slop.     Yes,  ten  mugs." 

"  I  was  running  on  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Road  the 
year  before  the  rebellion,  into  Parkersburg,  West  Vir- 
ginia, every  night.  I  stopped  at  the  '  United  States ' 
Hotel,  kept  by  a  Mr.  Tefft,  who  had  a  pretty  daughter. 
I  was  kind  o'  sweet  on  the  girl,  and  would  have  brought 
the  package  through  all  right  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  old 
man.  He  didn't  like  a  man  who  worked  for  a  living. 
One  night  there  was  to  be  a  big  dance  at  the  'United 
States,'  and  I  didn't  get  a  bid.     It  was  the  town  talk  for 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  99 

weeks,  and  was  to  be  a  big  affair.  The  crack  band  of 
Harper's  Ferry  was  to  furnish  the  music,  and  the  road  and 
country  were  scoured  for  table  luxuries.  At  Harper's 
Ferry  the  agent  put  two  heavy  packages  on  my  run ;  one, 
a  corpse  going  to  Parkersburg  for  burial,  and  the  other, 
a  big  fiddle — double-bass,  or  whatever  they  call  it — going 
to  the  same  place.  It  was  marked  'care  of  the  U.  S. 
Hotel,'  and  had  been  forgotten,  probably,  by  the  band. 
Both  freights  were  boxed  in  the  same  way,  and,  to  look 
at  them,  one  would  have  thought  that  it  was  a  pair  of 
something  going  somewhere  together,  which  was  true. 
Of  course,  one  was  a  trifle  heavier  than  the  other,  but 
that  could  only  be  told  by  hefting. 

"  I  swung  my  lamp  over  those  boxes  pretty  often  as  we 
neared  Parkersburg,  for  I  had  resolved  to  play  a  joke  on 
that  dance.  I  scraped  the  marks  off  the  boxes,  and 
changed  the  addresses !  As  the  dance  would  be  under 
way  when  we  got  in,  of  course  the  leader  of  the  band 
had  arranged  to  receive  his  package  at  the  cars,  without 
waiting  for  it  to  go  through  the  city  office.  Same  with 
the  friends  of  the  corpse. 

"After  satisfying  myself  as  to  these  points,  I  calmly 
awaited  the  last  whistle. 

"  There  were  two  crowds  at  the  depot  waiting  for  me. 
As  soon  as  the  leader  of  the  band  received  an  affirmative 
answer  to  his  inquiry,  he  gave  directions  to  his  men  to 
'  take  it  quick  to  the  orchestra  in  the  ball-room  and  open 
it,  for  the  music  was  waiting ;'  and  after  signing  my  book, 
he  went  away.  The  friends  of  the  corpse  had  brought  a 
hearse,  and  after  scanning  the  address,  lifted  the  box  in, 
remarking  incidentally,  that  it  '  must  be  much  decayed,  it 
was  so  light.' 

"  I  had  drawn  my  month's  pay  that  morning,  and  after 


IOo  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

making  out  my  report,  sat  down  and  wrote  my  resigna- 
tion ;  giving  it  to  the  boys  to  forward  to  Baltimore,  and 
telling  the  manager  that  I  was  ill,  and  that  he  must  put 
an  office  man  on  my  run  in  the  morning.  Then  I  gath- 
ered up  my  traps  at  the  U.  S.,  left  a  note  for  my  sweet- 
heart, and  took  a  room  down  at  the  '  Exchange,'  near 
the  river. 

"There  wasn't  much  of  a  newspaper  there  then,  but  it 
managed  to  get  a  report  of  the  affair  next  morning.  They 
opened  the  corpse  in  the  dining-room,  when  the  dance 
was  going  on,  and  there  was  a  scene.  Musicians  tumbled 
over  each  other — for  there  was  a  dead  body  there  instead 
of  a  fiddle — women  screamed  and  rushed  from  the  room  ; 
lamps  fell  from  the  walls — well,  it  just  broke  the  whole 
thing  up.  On  the  other  hand,  the  bass-viol  was  buried 
with  great  solemnity,  and  tears  of  grief  were  dropped 
upon  its  silent  bosom. 

"  When  I  left  for  Cincinnati,  arrangements  were  being 
made  to  resurrect  the  one  and  bury  the  other;  but 
whether  there  were  tears  and  grief  enough  left  for  the 
second  act,  I  never  cared  to  inquire." 

"  On  the  Camden  and  Amboy,  I  am  known  as  Bob 
Morris.  I  have  noticed  that  railway  companies  gener- 
ally have  quite  as  large  a  '  dead-head '  interest  to  look 
after  as  they  care  to  have.  They  are  continually  beset 
with  applications  from  a  thousand  and  one  sources  for 
free  transportation ;  and  deal  out  their  passes  as  liberally 
as  they  may,  there  seems  to  be  no  abatement  to  the  mul- 
tiplicity of  demand.  Newspapers  want  to  be  passed  free 
(which  is  but  just  and  right,  as  they  always  return  a 
hundred-fold) ;  clergymen  have  their  stereotyped  pleas — 
impecuniousness  for  gratuitous  travel,  which  no  Christian 
ticket-agent  can  withstand;  educators,  engaged  in  the 


*THKV    OPlTMED    THT     GOV..PSE      1  Ki  THf 

-— PAS  C       I  OO 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  iOI 

great  work  of  informing  the  human  mind,  must,  of  course, 
have  complimentary  tickets,  else  what  would  become  of 
the  '  institutes '  ?  Missionaries  to  frontier  circuits  are 
also  to  be  duly  provided  for,  or  our  border  civilization 
goes  up  the  spout.  Then  there  is  the  never-ceasing  pro- 
cession of  poor  widows,  peregrinating  aldermen,  crippled 
soldiers,  Sunday-school  excursionists,  blind  beggars,  ed- 
itorial celebrities,  and  dead-beats  of  every  pattern,  who 
have  standing  and  irresistible  claims  to  a  first-class  pas- 
sage, which  few  superintendents  are  healthy  enough  to 
deny. 

"There  was  a  Methodist  Conference  somewhere  on 
my  line,  and  delegates  were  to  assemble  from  all  parts  of 
the  State — I  don't  know  but  from  all  parts  of  the  United 
States.  Half-fare  round-trip  and  complimentary  passes 
to  dignitaries  were  the  order,  and  trains  were  crowded  to 
overflowing.  In  taking  them  up  from  day  to  day,  I  had 
no  suspicion  of  foul  play,  until  I  came  upon  a  counte- 
nance that  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  had  seen  often  before.  I 
could  not  be  mistaken;  in  spite  of  the  Presbyterian 
whiskers  and  white  choker,  I  was  sure  this  countenance 

belonged  to  Captain  ,  the  courteous  bar-tender  at 

the  Brevoort  House,  No.  n,  Fifth  Avenue.  A  quiet, 
handsome  man,  of  portly  form,  dignified  in  manner, 
well-fed,  and  always  clad  in  unexceptionable  black,  slow 
of  speech,  and  of  excellent  address,  he  was  well  calcu- 
lated to  deceive  as  a  representative  of  spiritual  affairs. 

"'I'll  tell  you  how  it  was,' he  explained,  when  the 
affair  was  all  over.  '  A  number  of  those  clerical  gentle- 
men stopped  at  the  house  here,  over  night ;  and  one  of 
them,  suddenly  seized  with  cramps,  rushed  in  here,  beg- 
ging for  burnt  brandy.  I  gave  him  a  sling,  and  he 
emptied  all  his  pockets   hunting  for   the   shekels  with 


I02  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

which  to  pay.  He  took  your  train  before  I  was  up  next 
morning ;  and  when  my  boy  swept  up,  he  found  the  gen- 
tleman's pass  to   and  from  the  Conference.     He 

proved  to  be  a  big  gun,  and  I  thought  I'd  shoot  her  off 
once,  just  for  a  lark.' 

"  I  remembered  then,  that  the  Reverend  Dr. had 

told  me  of  his  loss  on  the  train,  and  when  I  explained  at 
headquarters,  and  came  upon  the  pass,  the  joke  was  on 
me." 

"Mr.  Morris,  I  salute  you,"  said  Mr.  J.  C.  Mullen. 
"  I  was  once  a  conductor  on  the  Camden  and  Amboy, 
myself.  I  am  now  General  Agent  of  the  Burlington  and 
Missouri  Road,  with  headquarters  at  Coneston,  Iowa. 
We  have  a  little  more  romance  out  our  way  I  think  than 
you.  have  on  Eastern  roads.  We  have  a  peculiar  way 
of  serving  it  up  too,  as  witness  the  following : 

"  Passengers  on  Johnnie  Miller's  western-bound  train 
were  treated  recently  to  an  immense  sensation.  In  a 
first-class  coach  were  a  man  and  woman,  the  former, 
judging  from  his  appearance,  about  forty-five  years  of 
age,  and  evidently  a  working-man.  The  woman  was  a 
really  pretty  girl,  not  over  twenty-one.  The  twain  took 
the  train  at  Chariton,  Iowa.  Soon  after  leaving  that 
station,  they  commenced  gradually  to  lean  towards 
each  other,  and  'eyes  looked  love  to  eyes  that  spoke 
again ' " — 

"And  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage  bell,  eh  John?" 

"Yes,  for  a  while,"  answered  Mullen.  "She  was  re- 
posing with  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  and  their  hands 
were  clasped  together,  as  if  they  feared  they  would  lose 
each  other  during  the  night.  Their  overflowing  affection 
attracted  the  attention  of  every  other  passenger  in  the 
car.     They  slept  sweetly,   and  all  unmindful  that  Mr. 


EVER  YD  A  Y  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


103 


Man's  true  and  legal  wife  was  in  the  first  car  ahead  of 
the  one  in  which  they  were  riding. 

"  I  ain't  worth  a  cent  on  a  yarn,  but  of  course  you  un- 
derstand that  this  man  was  eloping  with  the  handsome 
young  girl.  His  neighbors  in  Chariton  knew  of  his 
plans  before  he  left,  and  raised  a  sum  of  money.  With 
this  they  purchased  a  revolver  for  Mrs.  Man,  and  a  rail- 
road ticket,  which  would  enable  her  to  follow  her  runa- 
way husband.  So,  when  they  stepped  into  a  first-class 
coach  at  the  station,  she  walked  into  a  second-class  car, 
and  they  left  Chariton  on  the  same  train. 

"The  situation  can  now  be  readily  comprehended. 
Mrs.  Man  waited  until  the  train  had  passed  two  stations, 
when  she  prepared  for  action.  She  walked  boldly  into 
the  car  where  the  elopers  were  still  in  the  embrace  of 
Morpheus. 

"The  guilty  pair  were  suddenly  awakened,  and  there 
stood  Mrs.  Man,  with  a  revolver  pointed  straight  at  her 
husband's  head.  The  girl  jumped  up  and  rushed  into 
the  sleeping-car,  claiming  protection  from  the  Pullman 
conductor,  who  locked  her  up  in  the  state-room.  At  the 
stopping-place,  Mrs.  Man,  who  kept  guard  over  her  hus- 
band, walked  him  out  of  the  train,  and  when  they  were 
on  the  platform  of  the  depot  she  actually  kicked  him, 
beat  him,  and  stamped  on  him  until  she  had  him 
thoroughly  subdued.  They  took  the  return  train  for 
Chariton,  and  Mrs.  Man  is  now  looking  for  that  girl." 

"  I  am  a  sleeping-car  conductor,"  said  Slossom,  "and  if 
we  weren't  sworn  to  keep  all  secrets,  I  might  give  you 
boys  many  a  good  thing.  We  have  to  keep  everything 
under  cover,  you  know.     A  country  couple,  evidently 

just  married,  got  on  at station,  Michigan  Central 

Road,  and  I  gave  them  the  best  room  I  had.     Passing 


I04  EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL. 

through  afterwards,  I  could  just  hear  enough  of  the  whis- 
pering to  know  that  they  were  discussing  the  novelty  of 
a  bed  on  the  cars. 

"  Arriving  at  the  end  of  their  journey  in  the  morning,  I 
entered  the  car  as  they  were  leaving  it,  just  in  time  to 
hear  the  rustic  bride  say  : 

" '  Wal,  Josh,  ef  that's  wot  they  call  a  burth,  I  ain't 
afeard,  be  you  ? '  " 

"  I  am  Henry ,  — well,  never  mind  the  rest — of  the 

New  York  and  Erie.  Three  miles  out  of  Jersey  City  you 
strike  the  great  '  Bergen  Tunnel,'  one  mile  long,  through 
solid  rock.  If  an  Irishman  were  telling  this  story,  he 
would  say  that  he  had  seen  a  great  many  funny  scenes 
occur  in  that  tunnel,  only  you  can  see  nothing  at  all  for 
the  darkness.  At  the  same  time  I  am  satisfied  that  such 
scenes  do  occur.  Once  a  gentleman,  for  some  unex- 
plained reason,  undertook  to  change  the  lower  portion  of 
his  apparel,  during  those  dark  seconds,  but  made  a  wrong 
calculation  as  to  time  !  But  kissing  seems  to  be  the 
choice  sport.  Kissing  in  a  tunnel,  think  of  that !  I  have 
been  told  by  a  friend  that  the  charm  is  in  the  novelty  of 
the  thing.  It  is  the  darkness,  the  rank  burglary ;  the 
nice  calculation  as  to  time ;  the  sudden  assault  and  des- 
perate defence;  the  acute  agony  of  the  skirmish  line 
hair-pins;  the  carrying  of  the  outer  works;  the  fierce 
struggle  at  the  scarp ;  the  sweetness  of  the  surrender ; 
the  questionable  honor  of  the  victory.  Then  the  horrid 
repairs,  and  the  impossible  attempt  to  appear  serene  be- 
fore the  other  passengers.  There's  a  short  lifetime  in 
the  kissing  of  a  girl  in  a  tunnel ! 

"I  had  a  newly  married  couple  out  with  me,  not  long 

ago,  on  the  Cincinnati  express.      I  have  had   a  great 

"many  just  such  couples  in  my  time,  but  somehow  or 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  105 

other  these  youngsters  attracted  my  attention.  Young 
man,  curly  hair,  of  course ;  young  lady,  blonde,  you 
know,  with  that  sort  of  hair  that  when  you  and  I  were 
young  used  to  be  called  tow.  Rosy  cheeks,  full  lips ; 
well,  I  should  say,  a  very  kissable  girl.  He  was  '  awful 
sweet  on  her,'  as  my  brakeman  suggested,  and  she — well, 
I  thought  I  could  see  her  saying,  '  James,  be  still,  every- 
body's looking  at  you.'  We  were  coming  to  the  caver- 
nous grove,  and  James  became  fidgety.  It  was  plain 
that  there  was  a  conspiracy,  and  that  the  tunnel  was  to 
be  made  a  party  to  it.  Lady  thoughtful  and  evidently 
unconscious.  Then  the  wheels  rattled  and  whirred 
louder  and  louder,  and  in  another  second  we  were  in  the 
tunnel ;  James,  his  bride,  and  all  of  us  ! 

"  We  came  through  all  right ;  and  James  was  through 
too,  the  bride  not  quite.  The  wreck  was  fearful !  Very 
little  hair  left  on  the  head,  but  quite  a  bunch  on  the  seat, 
with  a  lesser  wad  on  James'  shoulder.  The  color  had 
faded  from  one  of  her  cheeks,  and  lodged  on  his  nose. 
His  neck-tie  was  swinging  from  her  brooch.  She  com- 
menced the  work  of  reconstruction,  looking  up  at  him 
under  her  uplifted  arms,  as  if  to  say — '  See  what  you 
have  done  before  these  people.' 

"  James  went  for  a  drink  of  water ;  I  saw  him  with 
one  hand  on  the  nozzle  of  the  cooler,  and  the  other  on  a 
flask.  Half  the  hair-pins  were  gone,  and  when  she  came 
up  from  the  floor,  looking  so  woe-begone  and  friendless, 
I  was  rude  enough  to  smile.  I  couldn't  help  it.  She 
saw  it,  and  smiled  in  return,  as  if  to  say,  '  You  know  how 
it  is  yourself.' " 

"I  judge,"  said  a  brakeman,  "from  a  rhyme  I  have 
here,  that  tunnelling  of  that  sort  is  getting  quite  com- 
mon : 

5* 


I06  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


"IN  THE  TUNNEL. 

"  Riding  up  from  Bangor, 
On  the  Pullman  train, 
From  a  six  weeks'  shooting 
In  the  woods  of  Maine. 
Quite  extensive  whiskers, 
Beard,  mustache  as  well, 
Sat  a  '  student  feller,' 
Tall,  and  fine,  and  swelL 

"  Empty  seat  behind  him, 
No  one  at  his  side ; 
To  a  pleasant  station 
Now  the  train  doth  glide. 
Enter  aged  couple, 
Take  the  hinder  seat ; 
Enter  gentle  maiden, 
Beautiful,  petite. 

"  Blushingly  she  falters : 
'  Is  this  seat  engaged  ? ' 
(See  the  aged  couple 
Properly  enraged,) 
Student,  quite  ecstatic, 
Sees  her  ticket's  •  through  ; ' 
Thinks  of  the  long  tunnel — 
Knows  what  he  will  do. 

"  So  they  sit  and  chatter, 
While  the  cinders  fly, 
Till  that  'student  feller' 
Gets  one  in  his  eye  ; 
And  the  gentle  maiden 
Quickly  turns  about — 
•  May  I,  if  you  please,  sir, 
Try  to  get  it  out?' 


EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL.  IO/ 

"  Happy  •  student  feller  * 

Feels  a  dainty  touch ; 

Hears  a  gentle  whisper — 
*  Does  it  hurt  you  much  ?  ' 

Fizz  !  ding,  dong  !  a  moment 

In  the  tunnel  quite, 

And  a  glorious  darkness 

Black  as  Egypt's  night. 


"Out  into  the  daylight 
Darts  the  Pullman  train  ; 
Student's  beaver  ruffled 
Just  the  merest  grain ; 
Maiden's  hair  is  tumbled, 
And  there  soon  appeared 
Cunning  little  ear-ring 
Caught  in  student's  beard." 

"  That  reminds  me  of  an  adventure,"  followed  Drury, 
"of  a  little  'circumstance,'  I  might  say,  if  there  hadn't 
been  more  than  one.  I  run  the  Pacific  express  train  on 
the  Pan-Handle  Road.  We  left  Columbus,  Ohio,  one 
night,  and  everything  went  on  as  usual,  until  we  got  be- 
tween Dennison  and  Steubenville.  Then  one  of  my 
brakesmen  notified  me  that  a  lady  desired  my  presence 
in  the  rear  car.  Now,  I  am  a  married  man,  and  proof 
against  the  tricks  of  fast  girls,  but  I  always  try  to  make 
ladies  comfortable  on  my  train.  I  found  the  lady  in 
some  trouble  and  embarrassment.  First,  was  I  a  married 
man  ?  Told  her  I  was.  Then  it  transpired  that  she  was 
on  her  way  from  Cincinnati  to  join  her  husband  in  New 
York,  and  that  a  crisis  was  impending,  involving  the  ap- 
pearance of  an  additional  passenger.  I  was  taken  back 
some,  of  course,  but  I  set  to  work  to  make  the  lady  com- 
fortable.    First,  to  clear  the  car  of  all  male  bipeds ;  next, 


I08  EVERYDAY  LIFE   OAT  THE  RAIL. 

to  summon  from  the  forward  cars  all  the  female  assistance 
that  could  be  had.  The  result  was  a  fine  girl,  weighing, 
I  should  judge,  about  nine  pounds.  I  always  carried  a 
change  of  underwear  with  me,  in  case  of  accidents,  and 
from  this  supply  the  ladies  soon  improvised  a  wardrobe 
for  my  new  passenger.  This  was  all  well  enough,  if  the 
fates  had  been  satisfied.  The  train  left  Steubenville  on 
time,  and  was  soon  thundering  through  and  around  the 
hills  of  West  Virginia,  when  I  received  another  shock 
from  the  same  battery.  This  time  it  was  a  '  bouncing 
boy,'  as  the  old  ladies  have  it — twins,  by  all  that  is  out ! 
One  a  Buckeye  and  the  other  a  Pan-Handler.  The  re- 
mainder of  my  underclothing  went  to  start  this  young 
rascal  on  his  first  trip.  Then  for  fear  something  might 
happen,  I  sent  word  to  the  engineer  to  hurry  up,  and  we 
reached  Pittsburg  ahead  of  time.  These  two  half-fares 
had  no  tickets,  it  is  true,  but  you  will  admit  that  it  was 
but  half  fair  to  bring  them  through  !  We  conveyed  them 
tenderly  to  the  Union  Hotel  at  Pittsburg,  and  forwarded 
a  telegram  to  the  husband  at  New  York.  What  effect 
the  joyful  (?)  tidings  had  upon  him,  has  never  tran- 
spired." 

Johnnie  Richardson,  of  the  Hannibal  &  St.  Joe, 
thought  it  was  his  turn. 

"  If  you  have  ever  been  over  our  road,  you  must  re- 
member Smith's  '  Coupon  Shed,'  where  we  stopped 
ten  minutes  for  a  bowl  of  sweet  milk  and  a  chunk  of 
brown  bread,  price  ten  cents.  Nothing  could  be  more 
refreshing  at  a  late  hour  of  night ;  and  I  have  heard  many 
a  passenger  assert  that  they  relished  it  better  than  the 
most  elaborate  meal. 

"  Well,  I  knew  one  duck  to  get  too  much  of  it !  On 
account  of  the  uncertain  ballast  of  our  road,  we  are  re- 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


109 


quired  to  be  more  particular  in  enforcing  that  old  rule  : 
'  Passengers  are  not  allowed  to  stand  on  the  platform.' 
This  duck  insisted  upon  riding  on  the  platform,  and  as 
fast  as  I  hauled  him  in  off  of  one,  he  would  dive  through 
for  another.    To  all  my  expostulations  his  only  reply  was  : 

"  '  Sir,  I  am  looking  at  the  Missouri  moon  ! ' 

"  I  got  tired  of  following  him  from  one  platform  to 
another,  and  finally,  getting  him  by  the  arm,  I  said  : 

"  '  Say,  done  out  here  yet  ?  ' 

"  'Sir,  no,  sir ;  I  am  looking  at  the  Missouri  milky-way, 
now !' 

" '  Well,'  I  replied,  '  we  are  on  the  down  grade  now, 
and  if  you  stay  out  here  much  longer,  you'll  get  into  a 
milky-way,  yourself,  and  see  stars,  too.' 

"  The  joke  had  no  effect  upon  him,  although  I  think 
it's  about  as  good  a  thing  as  any  of  you  fellows  ever  got 
off!" 

"  But  you  didn't  get  him  off,"  retorted  one. 

"  No ;  I  sent  for  a  bowl  of  milk,  and  sucked  him  in. 
He.  was  an  insane  conductor,  just  discharged  from  the 
T.,'P.  &  W." 

"  I  was  a  country  pedagogue  for  awhile,  but  am  now 
with  the  Eastern  Express  Company.  I  remark,  that  the 
imagination  has  an  extraordinary  influence  on  the  human 
mind  and  body.  For  instance,  we  received  on  board  a 
Boston  boat  a  long  box,  addressed  to  Halifax.  It  was 
marked  '  head'1  a.ndifeet ;'  and  those  who  had  anything 
to  do  with  it  drew  their  own  inferences.  The  hands,  in 
putting  the  box  on  board,  detected  an  unpleasant  smell 
issuing  from  it,  which  was  considered  nothing  unusual. 
The  smell  increased  during  the  passage,  so  that  every- 
body shunned  the  box,  and  it  was  got  rid  of  as  soon  as 
the  boat  reached  her  wharf.     So  offensive  was  the  odor 


HO  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

that  it  would  not  be  allowed  in  the  warehouse.  The  first 
teamster  sent  to  remove  it  from  the  wharf  would  not  put 
it  into  his  wagon,  and  a  second  one  was  so  affected  by 
the  smell  that  he  became  sick  and  giddy.  Finally,  it  was 
got  into  the  wagon,  and  hurried  to  the  office,  where 
somebody  determined  to  investigate.  A  hatchet  was 
procured,  and  one  of  the  boards  lifted.  A  very  hand- 
some carved  Indian  figure  in  wood  was  disclosed  to  the 
gaze  of  the  crestfallen  teamsters,  everything  about  it  as 
clean  and  as  sweet  as  a  new-planed  board.  It  was  in- 
tended as  a  sign  for  some  enterprising  tobacconist. 

"  Well,  if  you  propose  to  take  the  express  train,  here 
is  another  package. 

"  Mr.  C.  S.  Pomeroy,  better  known  as  '  Brick,  No.  2/ 
is  the  transfer  express  clerk  at  the  depot  in  a  railroad 
centre,  which  of  course  must  be  nameless  here.  He  has 
charge  of  all  trains  in  his  line,  sleeping  in  the  depot,  and 
retiring  after  the  departure  of  the  last  train.  Not  long 
since,  trifling  depredations  were  being  committed  in  the 
transfer  office  ;  sneak-thieves  found  means  of  entrance, 
and  opened  barrels  of  crackers,  boxes  of  fruit,  etc.,  baf- 
fling all  attempts  at  detection.  '  Brick '  finally  resolved 
upon  a  grand  coup.  He  piled  up  some  long  narrow 
boxes,  containing  light  freight,  with'a  few  boxes  of  fruit, 
and  on  top,  a  coop  of  game  chickens,  arranged  so  that 
the  slightest  careless  touch  would  bring  them  to  the  floor 
and  awaken  him.  This  done,  he  secured  a  heavy  club, 
put  out  the  gas,  and  went  to  sleep.  It  was  not  long 
until  the  crash  came,  and  in  a  moment  Brick  was  on  his 
feet.  Moonlight  through  a  crack  or  window  revealed  an 
outline  of  the  situation.  The  boxes  lay  partially  opened, 
the  chickens  were  abroad,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  debris 
lay  the  thief!     Not  a  boy,  or  a  woman,  but  a  Swedish 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  m 

man  with  the  national  hair,  and  florid  countenance. 
Anything  but  a  Swedish  thief,  thought  '  Brick '  in  the  ex- 
citement, and  though  the  enemy  was  prostrate,  he  laid 
on  his  club  with  frequent  and  vigorous  blows.  There 
was  no  cry  of  pain,  no  effort  at  resistance,  no  sound  or 
echo  save  the  sickly  thud.  '  Brick '  concluded  that  the 
thief  had  been  killed  by  his  fall.  So  he  lit  his  gas,  and 
checked  off  the  result. 

"He  had  killed  Gen.  G.  Washington,  the  father  of  his 
country,  and  a  hero  for  '76  years.  The  General  having 
been  done  in  wax,  was  on  his  way  to  Wood's  Museum  at 
Chicago,  to  join  his  staff.  '  Brick'  had  introduced  him 
at  a  Matinee  before  his  time. 

"  Of  course,  '  Brick '  waxed  warm,  and  it  sticks  to  him 
to  this  day." 

"  I  am  on  a  Southern  road,  and  once  had  a  load  of 
editors  on  their  way  to  Winona,  to  attend  the  Press  Con- 
vention there.  It  is  not  always  safe  to  joke  editors ;  and, 
in  getting  this  off,  I  don't  want  to  give  either  my  own 
name  or  that  of  my  road.  Dr.  John  Woods,  of  the 
Scooba  Spectator,  took  charge  of  Mr.  Stevens,  of  the 
Columbus  Index,  on  this  occasion,  and  had  much  diffi- 
culty in  getting  the  young  gentleman  to  Jackson.  Like 
most,  editors,  Stevens'  baggage  consisted  of  only  one 
extra  shirt,  and  that  a  checked  one.  The  baggage-man 
accosted  Stevens  with : 

"  'Any  baggage,  sir?' 

S.—u  *  Yes,  sir.' 

B.  M. — " '  Let  me  see  the  checks  ! ' 

"  Stevens  cautiously  unravelled  the  bundle,  and,  holding 
up  the  forlorn  shirt,  asked  the  man  if  he  could  see  the 
checks.  An  umphl  in  basso  continuendo,  and  the  ex- 
pressman was  gone  I " 


II2  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

Sandy  Burrrell,  of  the  I.,  B.  &  W.  Road,  stroked  his 
famous  whiskers,  and  said : 

"  I  had  a  baggage-smasher  running  with  me  once,  who 
had  his  old-fashioned  idea  of  running  baggage  exploded  in 
a  peculiar  way.  Jim  had  ruined  two  or  three  trunks  for 
a  certain  commercial  traveller,  whose  route  lay  along 
our  line,  who  resolved  to  teach  him  a  lesson.  This  gen- 
tleman, who  was  in  the  hardware  line,  packed  a  carpet- 
bag full  of  loaded  revolvers,  and  handed  it  to  my  man  Jim. 
He  took  it,  and,  as  the  owner  went  away,  threw  the  bag 
up  against  the  wall  of  the  car  savagely,  then  drew  it  on 
the  floor  and  stamped  on  it  as  usual.  At  about  the 
fourth  jump,  firing  began  along  the  whole  line.  Forty- 
two  revolvers  went  off  in  rapid  succession,  distributing 
bullets  around  the  car  with  disgusting  carelessness,  the 
smasher's  legs  running  against  six  of  them  before  he 
could  get  out  of  the  car.  He  rode  upon  the  platform 
during  the  whole  of  that  trip ;  and  when  he  did  enter  the 
car,  he  encased  his  legs  in  stove-pipe,  and  ran  an  iron- 
clad snow-plough  in  front  of  him,  to  push  the  baggage 
out  with.  He  is  running  on  our  main  line  now,  and  I 
believe  he  smashes  fewer  carpet-bags  than  he  did  in  the. 
blissful  past — much  fewer,  and  he  wears  a  melancholy 
air.  The  only  boon  he  craves,  so  Billy  Smith  tells  me, 
is  that  he  may  be  present  when  that  carpet-bagger  calls 
with  his  check.     He  threatens  to  check  his  career." 

"  Not  quite  so  much  style  and  dignity  out  on  those 
Kansas  roads  as  they  put  on  further  east,"  says  John 
Minckler.  "Ed.  Jewett,  who  used  to  be  on  the  C,  B.  & 
Q.,  is  ticket-agent  at  Kansas  City.  His  office  is  a  sort 
of  headquarters  there.  I  was  sitting  there  with  him  one 
day,  when  a  rough-looking,  portly  fellow  came  in  and  sat 
down  by  the  stove.     His  pants  were  rolled  up,  and  he 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


113 


wore  a  seedy,  slouch  hat.  I  wondered  who  he  could  be, 
and  what  he  was  doing  behind  the  scenes.  Ed.  had  to 
get  up  to  ticket  somebody,  and  when  he  sat  down  again 
the  rough-looking  fellow  broke  out  with — 

"  '  I've  got  the  most  penurious  set  of  conductors  and 
men  in  the  world.  Here  I  am  without  money,  and  no 
way  of  getting  any — can't  even  get  a  drink.' 

"  Ed.  smiled,  as  though  he  was  used  to  such  interroga- 
tions, and,  turning  to  me,  said  : 

"  '  Mr.  Minckler,  this  is  "  Uncle  Ben,"  assistant  super- 
intendent of  the  Leavenworth,  Lawrence  &  Galveston 
Road.' 

"  Of  course,  we  all  went  over  to  Joe  Hunt's  and  took 
some  '  brine.' " 

"  Now  make  room  for  one  of  the  oldest  ticket-agents  in 
the  United  States.  I  was  conductor  on  the  Little  Miami 
Road,  and  the  C,  H.  &  D.,  in  Ohio,  for  a  long  time; 
and  left  the  track  on  account  of  my  health,  or  for  the 
want  of  it.  Opened  a  general  ticket-office,  on  my  own 
account,  adjoining  the  'Burnett  House,'  in  Cincinnati, 
just  above  the  Vine  Street  entrance.  Name — ah !  I 
forgot,  Pettybone — on  the  Road,  '  Pet.' 

"Rush  one  day  for  tickets;  everybody  going  every- 
where. My  clerk  had  gone  to  a  funeral.  Of  course, 
there  will  be  mistakes,  when  one  is  in  a  hurry.  About 
an  hour  after  it  was  all  over,  a  well-known  lawyer  came 
in  and  returned  me  a  one-dollar  note,  overpaid  him  in 
making  change.  I  was  speechless ;  then,  as  my  eyes 
moistened,  I  grasped  him  by  the  hand,  and  exclaimed : 

"  '  Judge,  stand  still  a  moment.  Let  me  look  at  you 
— and  you  a  lawyer,  too.'  We  went  in  and  had  a 
cobbler. 

"  When  I  made  up  my  cash  that  night,  I  threw  out  a 


H4  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

one-dollar  counterfeit  bill.  That  was  the  bill  I  got  from 
judge  C ." 

"Joe  Reevy  said  he  used  to  be  agent  of  the  Terre 
Haute  Road,  at  Pana,  Illinois.  Had  a  ticket-clerk  who 
was  a  little  tricky.  One  week  the  Western  roads  were 
flooded  with  well-executed  counterfeit  $5  notes  on  the 
Chippewa  Bank,  and  my  clerk  got  stuck  on  one.  This 
was  returned  to  us,  with  a  printed  description  of  the 
counterfeit,  and  directions  for  detecting  it.  This  we 
pasted  up  outside,  near  the  window.  That  counterfeit 
Chippewa  laid  on  the  clerk's  desk  for  a  long  time,  wait- 
ing for  a  call.     Next  night,  portly  gentleman  came  along, 

asked   for   ticket  to  ■ ,  handing   the  clerk  two  five- . 

dollar  notes,  Chippewa  Bank,  both  genuine.  Clerk  took 
them  in  quickly,  dropped  one  on  his  desk,  and  threw  out 
his  counterfeit. 

"  '  Sorry,  sir,  but  that  is  not  a  genuine  bill ! " 

"  '  Not  genuine  ! '  exclaimed  the  astonished  gentleman, 
'  I  gave  you  two,  both  alike  ! ' 

"  '  Beg  pardon,  sir,  here  they  are.  One  is  good,  the 
other  is  not.  You  will  find  a  description  of  the  counter- 
feit near  you  there  on  the  wall.  Do  me  the  favor  to 
examine  for  yourself,  as  others  are  waiting.' 

"  The  gentleman  '  examined,'  was  convinced ;  gave 
another  five,  and  received  his  ticket. 

"  The  audacity  of  the  thing,  and  the  extraordinary  cool- 
ness of  the  clerk,  made  me  powerless  to  interfere,  and 
I  allowed  him  to  '  get  even.'  The  last  time  I  heard  of 
that  clerk,  he  was  running  for  Congress  against  an  honest 
soldier,  with  the  chances  two  to  one  in  his  favor.  Yes, 
sir,  I  am  residing  now  in  St.  Louis." 

Henry  Tristan  said  that  when  he  was  a  conductor  on 
the  Hudson  River  Road,  one  of  his  brakemen  came  into 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


115 


possession  of  a  "  blessing"  in  a  singular  manner,  and  he 
thought  the  fact  ought  to  be  recorded.  He  tells  it  in 
rhyme,  and  being  a  long-winded  "cuss,"' the  account  is 
somewhat  tedious,  but  the  point  comes  in  at  the  right 
place : 

"LEFT  BEHIND.* 
"A  brakeman's  rhyme. 

"  '  Oh,  sir,  my  box — the  black  one  there, 

Oh,  would  you  be  so  kind, 
It's  all  I  have  in  this  wide  world, 

And  that  is  left  behind.' 
I  pulled  the  rope,  and  Number  Twelve 

Backed  slowly  to  her  place ; 
I  can't  forget  that  oblong  box, 

Nor,  indeed,  that  lady's  face. 

"  Now  if  things  that  lose  their  owners, 

All  our  sympathies  so  bind, 
How  much  more  should  living  creatures, 

Who,  forlorn,  are  left  behind. 
See  the  dog  in  some  strange  city, 

Who  has  lost  his  master,  kind, 
I  confess  an  honest  pity 

For  a  cur  that's  left  behind. 

"  With  his  nose  upon  the  pavement, 

How  he  threads  the  mighty  throng, 
Lifting  anxious  eyes  to  faces, 

Whining  out  his  lonely  song. 
Kicked  and  cuffed  by  every  idler, 

Set  upon  by  his  own  kind ; 
I  could  hang  the  man  who  strikes  him, 

A  poor  dog  that's  left  behind. 

*  See  "  No  One  To  Blame,"  page  128. 


H6  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

"For  I  can't  forget  the  school-days, 

Those  first  days  at  Abbott  Lawn ; 
When  the  shadow  of  a  mother 

That  bent  o'er  me  was  withdrawn. 
Or  the  utter  desolation, 

The  despair  that  filled  my  mind, 
When  she  left  me  with  the  master, 

Left  her  little  boy  behind. 

"  So  I  pitied  this  poor  lady, 

Travelling  alone  that  night, 
With  the  box  that  held  her  wardrobe, 

Scarce  a  dozen  pounds  in  weight. 
Seeking  friends  in  some  great  city, 

Or  a  lover  there  to  find, 
Or  perchance  a  friendless  maiden, 

Whom  love  had  left  behind. 

"  So  I  turned  my  brake  and  fixed  it, 

Then  looked  her  up  a  seat, 
Gave  the  fire  an  overhauling, 

Then  sat  down  to  warm  my  feet. 
And  my  heart  went  towards  that  lady, 

For  her  weeping  made  me  blind, 
So  I  went  and  sat  beside  her, 

Though  I  left  a  wife  behind. 

"  By  this  time  we  reached  the  station, 

I  believe  I  touched  my  hat, 
When  the  lady  came  and  asked  me — 

*  Would  I  have  an  eye  to  that  ? 
I  expect  to  meet  my  brother, 

If  the  telegram  went  through  ; 
Then ' — she  sobbed — '  he'll  come  and  get  it, 

With  many  thanks  to  you.' 

"  Henry  Tristan,  our  conductor, 

Now  came  through  the  crowded  train ; 
And  I  told  him  why  I  signalled, 
And  we  both  went  back  again. 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  uj 

Taking  up  the  oblong  bundle, 

We  could  find  no  plain  address, 
So  we  put  it  by  for  orders 

To  return  by  next  express. 

"  But  that  '  order '  never  reached  us, 

And  that  '  brother  '  never  came, 
So  I  took  that  bundle  with  me, 

And  it  found  a  home  and  name. 
He's  as  bright  a  little  youngster, 

And  as  pretty  as  you'll  find, — 
But  my  wife  will  never  tell  you 

How  that  boy  was  left  behind." 

Charlie  Lee,  known  far  and  wide  as  the  courteous 
Assistant  Superintendent  of  the  Hannibal  and  St.  Joe 
Railway  Company,  stationed  at  Quincy,  111.,  has  per- 
suaded his  line  to  adopt  a  plan  that  seems  likely  to  rid 
that  road  of  the  three-card  monte  swindlers. 

Each  conductor  is  provided  with  a  number  of  large 
cards  bearing  this  inscription :  "  Beware  of  three-card 
monte  and  confidence  men."  Whenever  any  of  these 
gentry  are  discovered  aboard  a  train,  the  conductor  goes 
into  the  car  and  puts  up  the  warnings  over  the  door, 
where  everybody  can  see  them.  It  makes  the  manipu- 
lating gentlemen  wince  and  swear  and  beg,  but  the  sign 
stays  there  to  their  sad  discomfiture.  If  all  the  roads  would 
adopt  some  such  plan,  there  would  be  fewer  robberies  by 
these  men  to  report. 

Jule  Coleman,  a  conductor  on  the  same  road,  thought 
it  was  a  good  time  and  place  to  slip  in  a  good  joke  on 
"  Ox-Horns,"  of  Galesburg,  Illinois.  "  Ox-Horns  "  is  the 
trade-mark  of  John  A.  Marshall,  the  Illinois  clothing 
man,  who  gets  up  the  "harness"  for  all  the  railway  men 
in  the    Northwest      His  establishment  in    Galesburg, 


U8  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

Illinois,  is  a  sort  of  railroad  headquarters,  where  Green- 
halgh  cuts  and  Gowdey  swings  the  style.  "John"  is  a 
leader  in  the  Methodist  Church,  a  practical  wag,  and  in- 
corrigible joker.  In  passing  the  contribution-box  in  his 
church  on  one  occasion,  he  came  to  a  seat  crowded  with 
conductors,  and  saluted  them  thus  : 

"  Tickets,  gentlemen,  tickets.  You  can't  ride  on  this 
train  unless  you  pay.  Salvation  is  free,  but  it  costs  like 
h — 1  to  run  the  church." 

"  John  "  met  with  his  match  once.  He  used  to  pick  up  a 
friend  or  two  and  run  out  to  Brookfield,  on  our  road,  to 
enjoy  a  few  days  with  Blossom,  of  the  Passenger  House 
there.  On  one  of  these  visits  he  met  with  the  advance 
agent  of  a  concert  troupe,  who  rode  into  Brookfield  in  a 
gay  vehicle  resembling  a  pedle^s  cart.  "John  "  offered 
to  go  ahead  on  his  route  and  bill  a  town  or  two,  and  it 
was  agreed  that  he  should  start  with  the  wagon  next 
morning.  A  few  miles  out  of  town,  old  lady  rushes  out 
of  the  house,  when  the  following  colloquy  ensues  : 

Lady — "Say,  what  have  you  got  to  sell  ?" 

John — "I  am  a  travelling  agent,  madame,  for  the 
great  menagerie  of  ancient  and  modern  times,  which  is 
shortly  to  be  exhibited  in  this  section." 

Lady — "  Have  you  any  elephants?" 

John — "We  have,  madame,  six  elephants;  but  these 
constitute  a  comparatively  unimportant  part  of  the  show. 
We  have  living  specimens  of  bipeds  and  quadrupeds, 
who  roamed  the  earth  not  only  in  the  antediluvian,  but 
also  in  pliocene  and  postminocene  periods,  embracing 
the  megatherium,  with  six  legs  and  two — " 

Old  Lady— -"Well,  I  declare." 

John — "But,  madame,  the  greatest  curiosity  of  our 
exhibition    is    a  learned    and   classical-educated    mon- 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   OK  THE  RAIL. 


119 


key,  who  was  brought  up  by  a  Mohammedan  priest  in 
the  region  of  the  great  Desert  of  Sarah.  He  wears  one 
of  Ox-Horns'  best  suits  ;  a  hat  fitted  to  his  head  by  the 
famous  Charvat,*  and  he  speaks  with  fluency  all  the 
modern  languages,  besides  Latin,  Greek,  Swede,  and 
Cesky.  While  being  exhibited  in  Washington,  he  act- 
ually repeated  Grant's — " 

[  Beautiful  young  lady  suddenly  sticks  her  head  from 
the  window  and  calls  out :  ] 

"  Mother  !  mother  !  Ask  him  why  they  let  the  mon- 
key travel  so  far  ahead  of  the  other  animals  !  " 

"  I  am  a  passenger  conductor,"  said  Palmer,  "  on  the 
road  running  from  Covington  to  Lexington,  in  Kentucky. 
I  have  a  love-passage  to  communicate,  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  the  ladies.  If  any  one  doubts  its  authenticity, 
I  refer  to  Halstead,  of  the  Cincinnati  Commercial,  and 
Bloss,  of  the  Enquirer.  These  gentlemen  were  on  a  voy- 
age at  the  time,  looking  up  the  Know-Nothings,  and 
were  on  my  train  when  it  occurred. 

"  On  the  Orange  B.oad  was  a  newly  married  couple, 
who  got  on  at  Arrington  depot,  in  Nelson.  They  were 
billing  and  cooing  every  five  minutes,  to  the  infinite  dis- 
gust of  the  females  and  the  amusement  of  the  other  sex. 
I  admired  one  favorite  posture.  He  was  sitting  at  the 
window,  and  she  was  anxious  to  see  the  country,  and 
leaned  across  his  knees  to  look  out.  Of  course  he 
wasn't  going  to  let  her  fall  out  and  be  left,  so  he  got  a 
good  Kentucky  hold  round  her  body,  and  never  broke  his 

*  This  refers  to  Mr.  Charles  II.  J.  Charvat,  of  Spear  Bros.,  a 
native  of  Tennessee,  and  one  of  the  most  popular  and  accomplished 
young  merchants  in  the  City  of  Galesburg.  He  is  familiar  with  the 
languages  named,  and  this  explanation  is  given,  lest  he  be  confound- 
ed with  Mr.  Marshall's  questionable  animals. 


120      ,     EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

grip  for  an  hour.  The  pressure  at  times  must  have  been 
about  seventy-five  pounds  to  the  square  inch.  Then  he 
would  slack  up.  She  was  '  mighty '  afraid  of  dropping 
out  of  the  window,  for  she  never  whimpered,  even  when 
he  tightened  his  arms  to  the  last  notch ;  that  is,  when 
going  across  the  river  and  ugly  high  banks.  After  she  had 
seen  the  country  enough,  they  began  to  whisper  to  each 
other,  and  after  each  whisper  bite  an  ear,  holding  it  a  little 
while  and  '  chawing '  like  puppies  do  your  fingers,  in  fun. 
He  would  make  out  sometimes  she  had  bit  him  too  hard 
and  tousle  her  for  it.  The  tousling  was  the  best  part  of 
the  performance.  She  knew  she  had  done  wrong  in  the 
auricular  matter,  and  ought  to  be  tousled.  Most  of  the 
men  in  the  car  thought  so,  and  if  she  hadn't  submitted 
they  were  ready  to  help  in  this  act  of  justice. 

"  Several  of  them  stood  up  every  now  and  then,  to  be 
ready  if  their  services  were  needed.  Some  were  inter- 
ested to  such  extent  in  suppressing,  with  marked  and  re- 
pressive punishment,  this  unlawful  compression  of  the 
male  acoustic  organ  between  the  incisors  of  the  female, 
that  first  refreshing  themselves  by  passing  to  the  ice-cooler 
and  swallowing  deep  draughts  and  then  returning  to  the 
neighborhood  where  the  sufferer  was  avenging  himself, 
keeping  their  arms  in  position  for  immediate  use  in  case 
of  emergency.  The  vanquished  was  doomed  to  support 
the  head  of  the  conqueror  till  he  should  recover  from  the 
fatigue  of  asserting  his  rights.     I  could  tell  you  more." 

"  I  am  a  brakeman  with  '  Cotton '  Smith,  the  handsom- 
est conductor  on  the  Toledo,  Peoria,  and  Warsaw  Road. 
The  Wabash  fellows  call  it  the  '  Tired,  Poor,  and  Weary.' 
We  run  from  Peoria  to  Warsaw,  a  little  town  on  a  high 
bluff,  overlooking  the  Mississippi  river." 

"  Oh,  well,  go  ahead,  or  give  the  track  to  somebody  else." 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  I2i 

"  Well,  one  trip,  as  we  were  about  to  pull  out  of  War- 
saw, an  old  man  came  down  to  the  cars  to  see  his  daugh- 
ter off.  '  Cotton  '  helped  him  to  secure  a  seat  for  her, 
and  he  went  round  to  the  window  to  say  a  parting  word, 
kind  of  private  like,  you  know.  While  he  was  passing 
out  the  daughter  left  her  seat  to  speak  to  a  friend,  and  at 
the  same  time  a  prim-looking  lady,  who  occupied  the 
seat  with  her,  moved  up  to  the  window.  Unaware  of  the 
important  changes  inside,  the  old  gentleman  hastily  put 
his  face  up  to  the  window  and  hurriedly  exclaimed, 
4  One  more  kiss,  sweet  pet ! ' 

"  In  another  instant  the  point  of  a  blue  cotton  umbrella 
caught  his  seductive  lips,  accompanied  by  the  passionate 
injunction  :  '  S'cat,  you  gray-headed  wretch  ! '  " 

"  I  think  I  had  that  same  blue  umbrella  in  my  train  once. 
Its  owner  was  named  Miss  Polly  Partington,  who,  at  the 
mature  age  of  fifty-one,  made  up  her  mind  to  visit  New 
York  for  the  first  time  in  her  innocent  life.  Railroads 
had  been  unknown  in  Aroostook  county  until  that  sum- 
mer, and  she  had  never  seen  anything  of  the  kind.  The 
old  farm-house  in  which  she  lived  was  seven  miles  from 
the  station.  Taylor,  the  station-master,  was  telling  me 
how  she  sat  calmly  upon  a  seat  placed  on  the  great 
wooden  platform  which  surrounds  the  country  depot, 
and  gazed  with  amazement  upon  the  train  that  arrived, 
paused  a  few  moments  to  take  on  passengers,  and  then 
proceeded  upon  its  journey.  As  she  gazed  after  the  train, 
Taylor  inquired  : 

"  '  Why  did  you  not  get  on,  if  you  wished  to  go  to  New 
York?' 

"  '  Git  on  ! '  said  Miss  Polly,  '  git  on  !  I  thought  this 
whole  consarn  went ! ' 

"  Taylor  explained  that  the  platform  was  stationary, 
6 


122  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

and  when  we  came  up  with  the  express  train  I  found  her 
a  seat  by  the  side  of  a  benevolent  old  gentleman.  I  was 
curious  to  know  how  my  unsophisticated  passenger  would 
act,  and  after  awhile  made  it  convenient  to  be  near. 
Clutching  fast  hold  of  the  seat  in  front  of  her,  she  was  at 
first  much  alarmed  at  the  speed  at  which  we  were  going, 
but  gradually  became  calm  and  much  interested  in  the 
novelty  of  her  su Groundings.  The  old  gentleman  answered  [ 
her  many  inquiries  very  civilly,  and  among  other  things 
tried  to  explain  the  use  of  the  telegraph  wires,  and  told  her 
that  messages  are  sent  over  the  wires  at  a  greater  speed 
than  they  were  travelling.  'Wa'al,  wa'al,'  said  Miss  Polly, 
'you  don't  ketch  me  a-ridin'  on  'em,  for  this  is  as  fast  as  I 
want  to  go,  anyhow.'  She  saw  so  many  wonderful  things 
that  she  concludes  at  last  not  to  be  astonished  at  anything. 
A  misplaced  switch  sends  us  into  the  train  that  preceded 
us,  and  our  friend  is  thrown  to  the  end  of  the  car,  among 
a  heap  of  broken  seats.  She  supposes  it  to  be  the  ordi- 
nary manner  of  stopping,  and  quietly  remarks,  '  Ye  fetch 
up  rather  sudden,  don't  ye  ? '  I  returned  after  a  time, 
and  found  that  the  old  gentleman  had  provided  her  a  seat 
in  a  forward  car  which  was  uninjured,  and  she  arrived  at 
her  journey's  end  without  further  accident. 

"  Here  she  was  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  eager  hack- 
men,  and  listens  in  wonder  to  their  oft-repeated  call  of 
*  Hack  ! '  '  Hack.'  Grasping  her  umbrella  in  one  hand, 
and  her  bandbox  in  the  other,  she  looks  down  into  the 
face  of  the  loudest  driver  with  the  compassionate  inquiry, 
'  Air  you  in  pain  ? '  She  is  rescued  from  the  conse- 
quences of  his  wrath  by  her  nephew,  who  came  to  the 
depot  to  look  for  her." 

"  I  was  the  party  who  conducted  Mr.  A.  Ward  from 
Providence  to  Boston,  though  you  may  have  heard  of  it 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


123 


before.  The  famous  wag  was  feeling  miserable  and 
dreading  to  be  bored,  when  a  man  approached  him,  sat 
down,  and  said  : 

"  '  Did  you  hear  the  last  thing  on  Horace  Greeley?' 

"  '  Greeley  ?  Greeley  ? '  said  Artemus.  '  Horace  Gree- 
ley ?     Who  is  he  ? ' 

"  The  man  was  quiet  about  five  minutes.  Pretty  soon 
he  said : 

" '  George  Francis  Train  is  kicking  up  a  good  deal  of  a 
row  over  in  England ;  do  you  think  they  will  put  him  in 
a  bastile  ? ' 

"  'Train  ?  Train  ?  George  Francis  Train  ?  '  said  Arte- 
mus, solemnly.     '  I  never  heard  of  him.' 

"  This  ignorance  kept  the  man  quiet  for  fifteen  minutes ; 
then  he  said  : 

"'What  do  you  think  about  General  Grant's  chances 
for  the  Presidency  ?     Do  you  think  they  will  run  him  ? ' 

"'Grant?  Grant?  hang  it,  man,'  said  Artemus,  'you 
appear  to  know  more  strangers  than  any  man  I  ever 
saw.' 

"  The  man  was  furious  ;  he  walked  up  the  car,  but  at 
last  came  back,  and  said  : 

'"You  confounded  ignoramus,  did  you  ever  hear  of 
Adam?' 

"  Artemus  looked  up  and  said  :  '  What  was  his  other 
name  ? ' " 

"  Jack  Haney,  known  as  '  Old  Flat-wheel,'  formerly 
of  the  Prairie  du  Chien,  is  now  a  popular  conductor  on 
the  Union  Pacific.  He  had  charge  of  the  famous  excur- 
sion train,  composed  entirely  of  Pullman  cars,  on  light- 
ning time,  from  New  York  to  San  Francisco.  He  had 
orders  to  see  how  fast  he  could  go  !  Old  Devant,  Presi- 
dent of  the  road,  was  aboard,  and,  remonstrating  with 


124 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


Jack,  told  him  to  decrease  his  speed,  or  he  would  kill 
every  one  on  the  train. 

"  '  My  orders  are,'  replied  Jack,  '  to  take  you  over  this 
division  of  the  road  as  fast  as  steam  can  carry  you.  You 
needn't  be  alarmed  about  so  small  a  train  as  this.  When 
we  kill  any  out  here,  we  always  kill  enough  to  make  it  an 
object ! ' " 

"  Hank  Argentine,  a  popular  conductor  on  the  Rock 
Island  Road,  says  he  likes  to  see  a  commercial  traveller 
taken  down  occasionally.  On  a  recent  occasion,  one  of 
these  gentry  got  on  his  train,  and,  as  usual,  spread  him- 
self and  baggage  over  two  seats.  A  lady  afterwards  en- 
tered, apparently  a  young  and  timid  thing,  and,  after 
some  trouble,  I  got  her  crowded  in  among  the  travelling 
man's  baggage,  on  the  opposite  seat.  Then  my  com- 
mercial began  to  do  the  agreeable ;  they  are  always  so 
knowing,  those  travelling  men.  He  began  to  suggest  to 
the  young  lady  that  the  spring  season  was  approaching, 
when  she  hoped  there  would  be  no  collision.  '  Fine 
weather  for  vegetation,'  continued  Commercial.  '  Yes,' 
said  the  lady,  '  green  things  were  growing  bold.'  '  Which 
way  was  she  going  ?'  '  Going  for  him,  if  he  didn't  keep  a 
proper  distance.' 

"  '  Ah,  see,'  he  said,  not  at  all  discomfited,  pointing  to 
a  calf  through  the  window — '  See  !  what  sort  of  an  animal 
is  that  ? ' 

"  'I  should  judge,  from  its  resemblance  to  you,'  she  re- 
plied promptly,  '  that  it  was  a  travelling  man  looking  for 
his  baggage.'  " 

"  '  I  wanted  to  put  in  a  word  before  we  go,'  said  Cleve- 
land, "for  'Billy'  Smith,  one  of  the  first  and  most  popular 
conductors  on  the  T.,  W.  &  W.  Road.  An  old  lady  coming 
from  Iowa  was  put  on  the  train  at  Clayton.     She  was 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  \2^ 

ninety-two  years  old,  deaf,  and  partially  blind.  It  was 
one  of  the  coldest  nights  of  a  severe  Western  winter,  and 
the  old  lady  was  but  thinly  clad.  She  had  no  ticket  or 
pass — nothing  to  show  where  she  wanted  to  go.  She 
could  only  tell  that  her  son  put  her  on  the  train,  but,  with 
tears,  refused  to  divulge  any  names.  When  the  train  was 
well  under  way,  the  lady  had  occasion  to  leave  her  seat 
for  a  moment,  when  the  humane  conductor,  searching 
everywhere  for  a  clue  to  the  mystery,  found  a  slip  of  pa- 
per under  the  seat,  upon  which  were  these  words,  written 
in  a  clerkly  hand  : 

"  '  This  woman  wants  to  go  to  Salem.' 

"  '  Billy '  carried  her  to  Bluff  City,  put  her  in  charge  of 
the  agent  there,  with  instructions  to  send  her  to  Salem 
next  morning.  She  was  found  cold  and  stiff  near  the 
Salem  depot  next  evening,  having  perished  from  cold  and 
exposure.  There  was  some  excitement  and  suspicion  of 
foul  play. 

"  Mr.  Smith  asked  the  Company  for  leave  of  absence, 
which  was  granted.  He  then  went  back  over  the  route 
to  the  point-  in  Iowa  supposed  to  have  been  the  poor 
woman's  starting-place.  It  was  never  known  how,  inch 
by  inch,  he  made  his  way  to  the  unnatural  son's  very 
door.  Nor  did  it  ever  transpire  how  much  of  his  own 
money  Mr.  Smith  expended  in  that  long  and  uncertain 
search.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  the  son  was  brought  to 
justice.  It  turned  out  that  the  old  lady  stood  between 
the  son  and  the  possession. of  a  splendid  farm  which  he 
was  to  inherit  from  a  deceased  father  at  the  mother's 
death.  With  the  deliberate  coolness  of  a  villain,  he 
sought  to  anticipate  death,  that  had  already  called 
through  slow  but  sure  decay.     When  asked  why  he  gave 


126  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

time  and  money  to  a  matter  that  concerned  the  State, 
rather  than  himself,  Mr.  Smith  replied  with  feeling : 

" '  The  law  is  very  slow,  boys,  and  I  could  not  help 
thinking,  that  perhaps  that  poor  old  woman  was  some- 
body's mother.    I  have  an  old  mother  at  home,  myself ! '  " 

"  One  or  two  conundrums,  boys,"  said  "  Fatty,"  of  the 
Ohio  &  Mississippi,  as  the  party  arose  to  go.  "  Little 
Mary  Wenner,  of  York,  Pennsylvania,  discovered  a  bro- 
ken rail  in  a  railroad  track  the  other  day,  and  swung  her 
apron  to  the  engineer  of  an  approaching  train  in  such  a 
manner  that  he  stopped,  and  saved  the  train  from  de- 
struction. Now  how  much  money  did  that  Company 
pay  this  little  heroine  in  cash  ?  " 

"  Eighty-five  cents." 

"  One  stick  of  peppermint  candy." 

"  One  new  Chinese  fan." 

"  One  York  shillin'." 

"Not  a  penny,"  resumed  "  Fatty,"  "but  the  boys  on 
the  train,  headed  by  Billings,  the  engineer,  and  the  passen- 
gers, raised  her  a  purse  of  $200  before  the  train  re- 
sumed its  run ! " 

Charlie  Clark,  of  the  Union  Pacific,  came  in  with  an- 
other : 

"  A  baggage-master  on  the  New  York  Central  has,  in 
the  last  twenty-eight  years,  travelled  almost  a  million  and 
a  half  of  miles.     What  was  his  run  per  day  ?  " 

Parker,  of  the  Cincinnati  &  Marietta  Road,  took  a 
hand  : 

"  Mr.  Julius  A.  Sumner,  of  Akron,  Ohio,  claims  to  be 
the  first  man  to  ride  on  a  passenger  car  in  the  United 
States,  and  that  he  sailed  on  the  first  steamboat  on  Lake 
Erie.  What  relation  is  he  to  Charles  Sumner,  and  if  so, 
how  much  ?  " 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  i2y 

"  Brake,  brake,  brake ! 

Oh  !  where  can  the  brakeman  be  ? 
And  in  ladies'  ears  I  cannot  speak 
The  thoughts  that  arise  in  me. 

"  Oh !  well  for  the  *  Railway  Arms,' 

Where  the  brakeman  is  smoking,  they  say, 
Quaffing  huge  draughts  of  ale, 
And  forgetting  the  '  permanent  way,' 

"  While  the  stately  train  goes  on 
To  destruction  under  the  hill, 
And  the  blame  is  laid  on  a  vanished  hand, 
Or  a  signalman' s  fickle  will. 

"  Brake,  brake,  brake ! 

I  hope  no  collision  may  be, 
For  compensation  when  I  am  dead 
Will  bring  small  comfort  to  me." 


IX. 


NO   ONE   TO   BLAME. 


[The  reader  is  referred  to  the  rhyme  on  page  115,  entitled  "  Left  Behind."  The 
following  verses  were  subsequently  found  pinned  to  a  portion  of  the  child's  cloth- 
ing. It  was  supposed  that  the  young  mother  intended  to  leave  the  litde  waif  on 
some  particular  door-step,  on  an  appropriate  occasion,  but  afterwards  changed 
her  mind.] 


EFT  on  the  door-step,  'mid  lightning  and  rain, 
The  same  old  story  told  over  again ; 
Of  love  unrequited,  desertion,  and  shame, 
Left  on  the  door-step,  no  home  and  no  name. 


Robes  all  embroidered,  fine  flannels  and  lace, 
Who  could  have  left  it  alone  in  this  place  ? 
Some  fair  and  fine  lady,  with  tears  and  embrace, 
Left  it  here  sleeping — a  smile  on  its  face. 

Or  some  friendless  maiden,  with  no  one  to  blame, 
Whom  poverty  crush' d,  then  gave  over  to  shame  ; 
Whose  stricken  heart  prayed  for  love  and  a  name — 
Left  on  the  door-step,  and  no  one  to  blame. 


Perhaps  these  fine  laces  were  woven  in  tears, 

Each  thread  a  new  heartstring,  that  tells  of  her  fears — 

Fears  of  the  villain  who  gave  it  to  life, 

And  made  her  a  mother,  but  never  a  wife. 


NO   ONE    TO  BLAME.  129 

See  those  initials,  how  splendidly  wrought, 
No  coarse,  clumsy  fingers  e'er  shapen'd  that  thought ; 
Two  syllables  outlined — of  some  broken  name- 
Whisper  them  softly — there's  no  one  to  blame. 

Whisper  them  softly — the  rest  are  entombed 

In  a  heart  that  is  broken,  a  soul  that  is  doomed  ; 

I  would  not  awaken  that  sorrow  again, 

By  a  word  rudely  spoken,  or  a  thought  to  give  pain. 

Take  it  up,  lady,  there's  no  one  to  blame, 

Tho'  the  fop  in  your  parlor  has  the  poor  mother's  name  ; 

Flatter  his  graces,  tell  daughter  to  come, 

He  has  wealth — and  the  secret  need  never  be  known. 

Hunt  down  the  mother,  go  blacken  her  name, 
Don't  mention  her  sorrow,  but  tell  of  her  shame; 
How  she  has  fallen,  that  others  might  rise, 
Keep  her  well  under,  till  the  stricken  thing  dies. 

Send  love  to  the  heathen,  in  Charity's  name, 
Ask  God  to  bless  Pagans  in  some  foreign  clime ; 
But  crush  the  poor  sister,  without  a  friend  near, 
She  loved  and  she  trusted,  no  help  for  her  here. 

See  !  it  is  smiling  on  you  and  on  me, 

While  the  mother  is  praying,  where  no  eye  may  see ; 

Take  it  up,  lady,  there's  no  one  to  blame, 

Maybe  the  angels  will  give  it  a  name. 


THE   RAILWAY   POSTAL   SERVICE. 

Advantages  of  the  New  System  over  the  Old — The  Standard  Road 
in  the  Western  Service — At  the  "  Gem  City" — Pointless  Jokes 
— Impecunious  Swindlers,  etc 

ilSTRIBUTING  Post  Offices  are  now  to  be 
found  on  all  first-class  lines,  the  system  of  route 
agents  having  been  abandoned.  A  handsome 
car,  constructed  especially  for  the  purpose,  is  pro- 
vided, and  has  a  place  next  the  express  car,  on  all  express 
trains.  There  are  two  compartments  or  divisions — one 
for  letters  and  another  for  papers.  A  recess  in  the  for- 
ward part  of  the  car  is  for  mail-bags,  that  contain  both 
"through"  and  "way"  mail.  There  are  two  postal 
clerks  to  each  car :  the  responsible  chief,  who  presides 
over  the  letter  department,  and  the  assistant,  who 
"  learns  "  the  routes  and  serves  his  apprenticeship,  among 
the  papers.  Both  are  sworn  into  the  Government  service, 
and  the  car  itself  has  no  direct  communication  with  the 
rest  of  the  train.  No  one,  save  a  sworn  Government  era- 
ployii  is  allowed  admission  into  this  car,  and  the  plebeian 
railroad  employ^  is  always  given  to  understand  that  a 
portion  of  the  American  Government  is  abroad. 


THE  RAILWAY  POSTAL   SERVICE.  131 

It  was  formerly  the  custom  to  have  the  distributing 
done  in  local  post  offices.  Everything  had  to  be  "  billed  " 
and  "  booked,"  and  accounts  kept  of  letters  sent  and  re- 
ceived. Now  the  local  office  has  but  to  "bundle"  its 
letters,  fasten  with  string,  put  them  in  bags,  and  send  to 
the  route  cars.  The  postal  clerks  then  distribute  them 
while  en  route.  There  is  no  longer  any  necessity  for  the 
vast  quantities  of  complicated  books  and  miscellaneous 
stationery,  the  stock-in-trade  being  stout  string.  All 
mail-matter  used,,  to  be  sent  to  the  leading  metropolis, 
marked  "  D.  P.  O.,"  for  distribution.  By  the  new  ar- 
rangement the  force  is  reduced  in  the  local  offices  and 
increased  on  the  road.  This  prevents  all  unnecessary 
delay.  For  instance,  Western  letters  used  to  stop  twelve 
hours  at  Chicago  or  Buffalo  for  distribution.  By  the  new 
system  they  are  bagged  through.  Leaving  the  hands  of 
the  writer,  a  letter  never  stops  until  it  reaches  the  person 
to  whom  it  is  addressed. 

It  is  calculated  now  that  a  letter  will  travel  as  fast  as  a- 
human  being,  which  every  one  will  acknowledge  to  be  a 
vast  improvement  upon  the  old  method. 

Of  roads  running  out  of  Chicago,  the  Chicago,  Bur- 
lington, and  Quincy  is  called  the  Standard,  in  the  Postal 
Service,  in  the  West.  It  carries  more  mail,  by  actual 
weight,  than  any  other  Western  road.  As  the  depart- 
ment weighs  the  mails  once  every  year,  this  fact  can  be 
readily  ascertained.  The  next  road  is  the  North-west- 
ern, and  so  closely  were  they  matched,  that  at  one  time 
they  indulged  in  the  most  bitter  rivalry. 

With  the  Government  seal  upon  the  door  of  the  rail- 
way postal  car,  as  well  as  upon  the  lips  of  the  officials, 
the  author  found  it  difficult  to  learn  much  of  their  Every- 
day Life  by  actual  observation.     Their  places  of  rendez- 


132 


THE  RAILWAY  POSTAL   SERVICE. 


vous  are  at  the  junction  of  two  or  more  lines  ;  at  the  be- 
ginning or  terminus  of  long  "runs,"  where  a  night  inter- 
venes between  the  arrival  and  departure  of  trains.  But 
three  or  four  can  come  together  on  these  occasions,  and 
the  leisure  hour  detracts  but  little  from  the  monotony  of 
the  busy  day.  If  it  is  at  Quincy,  a  few  jokes  and  "  drives  " 
over  a  mug  of  beer  at  the  "  Gem  City,"  send  them  to 
their  bunks  for  a  few  hours'  rest.  Notwithstanding  a  fre- 
quent poultice  of  wine  and  beer,  the  jokes  are  usually  dry, 
and  without  point.     For  instance  : 

Hank  Boblett  says  the  H.  &  St.  Joe  Road  is  one  of  the 
heaviest  of  mail  routes,  but  the  work  consists  chiefly  of 
hauling  in  butter,  eggs,  and  potatoes. 

Then  Poole  tells  of  Bonham's  mistake  in  regard  to 
Dilge,  and  how  the  latter  escaped  the  mistake  his  vic- 
tuals made. 

Then  Moore  of  the  Wabash  tells  how  Hartman  wanted 
a  double  house,  and  Hartman  gives  the  details  of  how 
Moore  was  seized  with  diphtheria  in  his  off  ear.  Moore 
is  the  "  wag  of  the  Wabash,"  and  his  comrades  throw  a  bag 
at  him  whenever  one  comes  in  their  way.  On  one  occa- 
sion, a  clerk  was  transferred  from  the  C,  B.  &  Q_.  to  the 
Wabash,  and  placed  over  Moore  and  his  associates.  This 
was  a  bit  of  "  red  tape  "  of  the  wrong  color,  and  did  not 
"  distribute  "  worth  a  cent.  They  turned  the  boxes  on 
the  new  man.  "  How  do  you  like  the  new  run?"  they 
asked,  after  a  trip  or  two.  "Oh,  it's  a  bore,"  was  the 
reply.  "When  I  was  over  on  the  C,  B.  &  Q.,  all  I  had 
to  do  was  to  throw  '  North '  in  front  of  me,  and  '  South ' 
behind,  but  here  you  throw  North  to  the  West,  and 
South  to  the  East."  Porter  advised  him  to  buy  a  compass, 
but  he  was  removed  before  it  arrived. 

Palmer  tells  of  a  fellow  who  handed  in  a  letter  at  the 


THE  RAILWAY  POSTAL  SERVICE.  133 

State  Line  for  the  Pump  Works  in  La  Fayette.  It  was 
said  to  contain  $12,  but  never  reached  its  destination.  A 
"  tracer  "  discovered  that  the  letter  went  through  all  right, 
but  that  the  writer  in  his  haste  had  neglected  to  enclose 
the  money.  Another  man  came  to  him  and  wanted  $5 
returned,  claiming  to  have  mailed  that  amount  in  a  letter 
that  had  never  been  received.  Beard,  a  special  agent  of 
the  Money  Order  Department,  thereupon  started  over 
the  route  to  investigate  the  matter,  spending  time  and 
money  in  a  fruitless  search.  It  was  the  opinion  of  expe- 
rienced clerks,  that  persons  pretending  to  pay  debts  in 
this  way  never  enclose  the  money  at  all.  The  blame 
therefore  falls  on  postal  clerks,  who  frequently  forfeit 
lucrative  positions,  at  the  demand  of  some  impecunious 
and  unprincipled  adventurer. 


XI. 

THE  NIGHT   EXPRESS. 

A  station-agent's  rhyme. 

ALF  AN  HOUR  till  train  time,  sir, 
A  fearful  dark  night,  too  ; 
Look  at  the  switch-lights,  Tom,  my  boy, 
Fetch  in  a  stick  when  you're  through. 
"On  time  ! "  why  yes,  I  guess  so, 
Despatch  says  "  left  all  right ;" 
She'll  come  round  the  curve  a-flyin', 
Sime  Murray  comes  up  to-night. 

Don't  know  him  !  well,  he's  engineer  ; 

Been  on  here  all  his  life  ; 
I'll  never  forget  the  mornin1 

He  married  his  little  wife. 
The  summer  the  mill-hands  struck,  sir, 

Quit  work  there,  every  one  ; 
Kicked  up  a  row  in  the  village, 

And  shot  old  Donavan's  son. 

Murray  was  there  say  an  hour, 

When  up  came  an  order  from  Kress, 

Ordering  Sime  to  go  up  there, 

And  bring  down  the  Night  Express. 


THE  NIGHT  EXPRESS. 

He  left  his  gal  in  a  hurry — 

A  pity  to  spoil  the  fun — 
Thinkin'  of  nothin'  but  Mary, 

And  the  train  he  had  to  run. 

And  Mary  sat  by  the  window, 

To  wait  for  the  Night  Express ; 
And  sir,  if  she  hadn't  'a'  done  so, 

She'd  been  a  widow,  I  guess. 
For  it  must  'a'  been  nigh  midnight 

When  them  mill-hands  left  the  ridge, 
They  come  down,  the  drunken  devils, 

Tore  up  a  rail  from  the  bridge. 

But  Mary  heard  'em  workin' — 

Guessed  there  was  somethin'  wrong — 

And  in  less  than  fifteen  minutes 
Murray's  train  would  be  along. 

She  couldn'  t  come  here  to  tell  us, 

A  mile — it  wouldn't  'a'  done — 
So  she  just  grabbed  up  a  lantern, 

Then  made  for  the  bridge  alone. 
Down  came  the  Night  Express,  sir, 

And  Sime  was  making  her  climb, 
But  Mary  held  up  the  lantern, 

A  swingin'  it  all  the  time. 

Well,  by  Jove  !  Sime  saw  the  signal, 

And  stopped  the  Night  Express ; 
And  he  found  his  Mary  cryin', 

On  the  track,  in  her  weddin'  dress. 
Cryin'  and  laughin' ,  for  joy,  sir, 

And  holdin'  on  to  the  light — 
Hello  !  here's  the  train — good-by,  sir, 

Sime  Murray's  on  time  to-night. 


135 


XII. 


ON  THE   NIGHT  TRAIN. 


HEN  the  smoke  blew  and  the  sparks  flew,  and 
we  stopped  to  put  off  or  take  on,  you  could 
hear  the  church-bells  ringing,  and  the  katydids 
chaffering  and  interrupting  each  other,  like  gos- 
sips over  their  tea.  The  noise  and  hurry  of  the  night 
express,  and  the  peaceful,  sleepy  country  life  blended 
for  an  instant  in  a  kind  of  harmony,  and  then,  by  contrast, 
went  wider  and  wider  of  each  other  than  before. 

Now  that  the  moon  came  out  to  keep  an  eye  on  the 
world,  I  felt  I  might  drop  it  all  off  my  mind.  So  I  put  down 
my  bag  and  my  water-proof  and  my  head,  and  shut  my  own 
eyes.     But  my  ears  were  wide  open,  you  may  be  sure. 

Pretty  soon,  something  went  wrong  with  the  box  of  one 
of  the  wheels,  and  there  was  a  flurry  of  lanterns  and  oil- 
cans and  men,  for  a  little  season.  Then  "  Pooh !  pooh ! " 
screamed  the  whistle,  and  we  were  off  again.  The  moon 
now  began  to  see  something  worth  seeing.  Myself,  you 
understand,  comfortably  settled  for  the  night,  after  hav- 
ing secured  the  monopoly  of  a  whole  seat,  voluntarily 
giving  up  half  of  it  to  a  stranger.     And  before  the  night 


ON  THE  NIGHT  TRAIN. 


137 


was  over,  I  witnessed  a  romance  a  hundred  times  more 
absorbing  than  sleep. 

The  woman  who  sat  by  me  was  elderly,  with  a  sharp, 
handsome  face,  worn  and  marked  with  time  and  trouble. 
A  man  followed  her  into  the  car,  and  presently  found  a 
seat  before  us.  Directly  he  turned  about  to  my  seat- 
mate.  "  He  is  really  your  husband,  you  know,  Mrs. 
Evans,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  but  perfectly  distinct  voice. 

"He  is  not 7"  she  replied,  with  sudden  emphasis. 

Instantly  how  wide-awake  I  was  ! 

"I  beg  you  not  to  be  hasty,"  continued  the  man,  per- 
suasively. "  I  do  not  pretend  he  did  right  in  leaving  you 
and  his  child  for  so  many  years  without  a  word.  And 
his  second  marriage  is  niore  inexcusable  yet.  But  this 
second  Mrs.  Evans  has  been  worse  treated  than  you 
have,  and  if  she  will  overlook  her  wrongs  and  permit  him 
to  leave  her  for  you  without  making  any  trouble,  it  seems 
to  me  you  may  find  it  possible  to  forgive  him ;  for  the 
sake  of  your  boy,  if  you  would  not  for  yourself." 

"  For  the  sake  of  my  boy  ! "  broke  out  Mrs.  Evans, 
passionately.  "  A  great  gift  such  a  father  would  be  !  I 
tell  you,  Mr.  Crafts,  every  drop  of  blood  in  my  body  flies 
into  motion  thinking  of  such  cowardly  meanness  and  ter- 
rible wrong  ;  and  you  may  be  perfectly  sure  I  will  never 
acknowledge  or  even  see  him.  This  is  my  final  answer, 
and  you  may  take  it  now." 

The  handsome  face  grew  handsomer  and  more  im- 
movable at  every  word,  and  I  wondered  at  the  man's 
hardihood  in  persisting  any  farther  ;  but  he  turned  still 
more  in  his  seat,  with  a  determined  and  thoroughly  busi- 
ness air,  as  though  he  had  just  so  much  to  say,  and 
should  say  it  in  any  event. 

All  this  time  the  man  who  occupied  the  seat  before 


!38  ON  THE  NIGHT  TRAIN. 

me  with  Mr.  Crafts,  was  sitting  leaned  against  the  win- 
dow, with  his  hat  slouched  over  his  eyes,  apparently 
asleep  in  his  corner,  but  in  fact  listening  all  over,  as  his 
whole  attitude  in  some  indescribable  way  showed.  Mr. 
Crafts  and  Mrs.  Evans  were  both  too  absorbed  and  too 
excited  to  notice  him ;  and  indeed  I  suppose  he  had  as 
good  right  to  listen  to  what  was  none  of  his  business,  as 
I  had,  if  it  was  forced  into  his  ears. 

"But,  Mrs.  Evans,"  began  Mr.  Crafts  again,  "your 
husband  is  very  penitent,  and  ready  to  make  any  prom- 
ises you  may  require,  and  to  submit  to  any  conditions 
whatever,  if  you  will  only  acknowledge  him  as  your  hus- 
band. The  other  woman  will  never  intrude  or  interfere. 
You  shall  have  what  property  you  possess  secured  to 
yourself  personally,  and  you  cannot  ask  any  more  humble 
confessions  than  he  is  willing  to  make.  Besides,  al- 
though he  has  showed  lamentable  and  even  criminal 
weakness  in  neglecting  to  send  for  or  to  you,  yet  I  be- 
lieve he  was  never  really  base  at  heart  or  intentionally  a 
scoundrel.  He  kept  hoping  his  business  affairs  would 
brighten,  as  he  says,  and  was  ashamed  and  discouraged 
about  letting  you  know  of  his  failures.  So  time  passed 
along  in  this  way  until  the  woman  beguiled  him  into  a 
marriage,  quite  unconscious  of  what  she  was  doing.  In- 
deed, Mrs.  Evans,  your  husband  has  apparently  been 
more  weak  than  wicked ;  and  I  do  not  think  you  show  a 
Christian  spirit  of  forgiveness  in  refusing  to  see  him,  at 
the  very  least." 

"  Mr.  Crafts,  I  have  no  husband.  He  was  lost  to  me 
twenty-one  years  ago,  and  I  have  no  wish  or  intention  of 
seeing  or  hearing  anything  more  respecting  the  creature 
who  wears  his  name,"  returned  Mrs.  Evans,  cold  and  im- 
movable as  Bunker  Hill  Monument. 


ON  THE  NIGHT  TRAIN.  i^g 

We  halted  a  moment  as  we  neared  the  next  station, 
and  she  took  the  opportunity  to  pass  into  the  next  car. 
I  never  saw  Mrs.  Evans  again,  though  the  story  did  not 
end  here. 

She  was  scarcely  gone,  when  a  voice  came  from  under 
the  slouched  hat  in  front  of  me.  "  Crafts,  are  you  going 
to  let  her  go  so  ? "  it  said,  in  a  tone  startling  in  its  woe 
and  despair. 

"  I  can  do  nothing  with  her,  Evans.  I  told  you  so 
before.  You  have  heard  her  talk  now  for  yourself,  and 
can't  you  be  satisfied?" 

"You  won't  desert  me  now,  Crafts.  I  don't  care  so 
much  for  her,  but  I  want  my  boy,"  said  the  voice  in 
pathetic  and  agonized  entreaty. 

"  I  can  do  nothing  more  for  you.  You  have  sowed, 
and  now  you  must  reap.  You  hear  what  she  says,"  he 
added,  in  an  indifferent  manner. 

"  Then  why  did  you  tell  me  at  the  start,  she  had  left 
England  with  my  boy,  and  say  you  would  intercede  for 
me  ?  Why  did  you  not  leave  me  with  Marianna  and  my 
farm  in  peace?  Marianna  was  kind  and  cheerful  and 
made  me  comfortable  enough,  and  I  should  have  been 
contented  and  satisfied  all  my  life,  if  you  had  never  come 
and  told  me  Eugenia  and  my  boy  were  living  and  on  this 
side  of  the  ocean ;  and  then  persuaded  me  I  could  come 
out  into  the  world  and  take  my  place  among  men  once 
more.  Marianna  has  left  me,  and  Eugenia  will  not 
come  to  me.  You  have  lost  me  both  my  wives  and 
taken  my  money  besides,  Marianna' s  boy  is  dead,  and 
Eugenia's  is  lost  to  me.  There  is  nothing  for  me  in  this 
life  or  the  next,"  said  the  unhappy  man. 

"  Business  is  business,"  returned  Mr.  Crafts.     "  I  must 
live  as  well  as  the  next  man,  and  you  cannot  say  but  the 


140  ON  THE  NIGHT   TRAIN. 

bargain  was  fairly  made,  and  the  money  fairly  earned. 
You  were  to  give  me  the  farm  outright,  and  in  return  I 
was  to  inform  the  second  Mrs.  Evans  that  she  was  not, 
and  never  had  been,  your  legal  wife ;  as  well  as  do  my 
best  to  bring  about  a  reconciliation  with  the  first  Mrs. 
Evans — none  of  which  was  desirable  work.  I  have 
closed  up  with  Mrs.  Evans  the  second,  and  made  suitable 
and  comfortable  provision  for  her  future ;  and  I  have 
tried  my  utmost  with  Mrs.  Evans  the  first.  But  it  is  not 
my  fault  that  she  declines  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
you.  I  did  not  engage  to  furnish  a  character  for  you  ; 
that  was  beyond  my  power,  as  well  as  not  in  the  agree- 
ment. It  is  a  pity  about  you,  but  I  can  do  nothing 
more;  and  you  must  admit  I  have  fulfilled  all  my  en- 
gagements, and  done  all  I  promised,  which  it  appears  is 
more  than  you  have  always  done." 

The  man  seemed  already  too  wretched  to  mind  this 
cold-blooded  thrust.  He  only  crushed  his  hat  lower  on 
his  forehead,  and  settled  back  in  his  seat,  a  living  image 
of  forsaken  and  hopeless  desolation.  So  we  whirled 
along  past  sleeping  villages,  over  long  reaches  of  open 
country,  under  the  quiet  stars,  and  into  the  heart  of  the 
great,  waking  city,  where  he  left  the  cars,  disappearing 
from  me  in  the  gray  morning  among  the  crowd  of  men 
gathered  about  the  station. 

We  need  not  the  voice  of  the  great  archangel  to  tell 
us  that  "  to  be  weak,  is  to  be  miserable."  And  this  man 
who  had  evidently  been  sinfully  weak  all  the  way,  and 
who  doubtless  deserved  the  woe  he  had  .brought  upon 
himself — I  pitied  with  my  whole  heart. 


XIII. 

THE   LITTLE   CRIPPLE. 

[A  machinist,  killed  by  an  accident  in  the  shops,  left  a  widow  and  two  children 

_j;m ,  a  young  engineer,  and  his  little  brother  Ned.     Jim  was  very  fond 

of  this  little  brother,  and  frequently  amused  him  with  a  ride  in  the  yard  on  his  en- 
gine. On  one  occasion,  in  an  unguarded  moment,  Ned  fell,  one  leg  being  crushed 
under  the  wheel.  The  leg  was  amputated,  and  he  lived  but  two  years  after  the 
occurrence.  The  little  fellow,  going  about  on  his  crutches,  became  a  general  fa- 
vorite, and  his  sad  death  occasioned  universal  sorrow.] 

wrsa'N  a  city  of  the  prairie,  where  uncertain  waters  flow, 

Stands  a  modest  little  cottage,  that  the  winter  winds  well 

know; 
Here  and  there  a  ragged  clapboard,  or  an  idle  hinge  was 
seen, 
But  within  that  shattered  cottage  all  was  wondrous  neat  and  clean. 


Everybody  knew  the  cottage,  for  the  little  children  said, 
Here  lived  a  widowed  mother,  and  her  little  cripple— Ned. 
On  this  night  the  storm  was  raging,  and  the  prairie  winds  were  wild, 
As  the  mother,  pale  with  watching,  smooth' d  the  death-bed  of  her 
child. 

It  was  not  some  fair,  fine  lady,  with  white  and  jewelled  hands, 
And  a  host  of  cringing  lackeys  to  obey  her  least  commands ; 
But  a  poor  mechanic's  widow,  robbed  by  death  of  every  joy, 
Who  had  known  no  other  fortune,  save  this  little  crippled  boy. 


!42  THE  LITTLE   CRIPPLE. 

In  the  corner  were  the  crutches,  and  the  toys  he  put  away, 
For  he  often  tried  to  follow  little  comrades  at  their  play. 
On  the  bed  he  lay  there  sleeping,  as  the  mother  thought  a  prayer, 
For  she  could  not  speak  for  weeping,  and  she  knew  that  God  was 
there. 

She  would  not  have  him  waken,  and  she  dared  not  think  him  dead, 
So  she  knelt  and  prayed  in  whispers,  for  her  little  crippled  Ned. 
Prayed  that  God  would   spare  the  suff'rer,  and  take  herself  in- 
stead— 
But  the  little  lips  now  open — "  Mother,  here  is  little  Ned." 

"  I've  been  talking  with  the  angels,  and  they  took  the  pain  away  " — 
Thus  the  mother's  prayer  was  answered,  thus  she  knew  he  could 

not  stay. 
"  But  they  said  they'd  come  to-morrow.     Oh  !  dear  mother,  don't 

you  cry, 
But  give  Ned  a  drink  of  water,  for  I'm  going  by  and  by." 

With  nervous  step  she  hastened  to  take  up  the  tea-cup  near, 
And  the  waiting  water  trembled  as  it  caught  the  falling  tear. 
A  mouthful  feebly  swallowed — "  Mother,  where  is  brother  Jim? 
When  he  comes  from  work,  please  tell  him,  Ned  left  good-by  for 
him." 

The  door  is  softly  opened,  and  the  brother  enters  there, 
But  he  hears  no  voice  of  welcome,  only  sobs  and  words  of  prayer. 
Then  the  two  kneel  down  together,  in  the  presence  of  the  dead, 
And  pray  God  that  yet  in  heaven  they  may  meet  their  little  Ned. 


XIV. 


EVERYDAY   LIFE   ON   THE    RAIL. 


AMONG  THE  FREIGHT-MEN,  CONDUCTORS,   AND  BRAKEMEN. 


The  Freight-men — The  Freight  Conductor — The  Accommodation 
Train — Sayre  and  the  Lecturess — Packard's  Conundrum — How 

Courtney  got  out  against   Brown — Conductor's   P 's  great 

Fete— A  Dollar  for  a  Kiss—"  Blazer,  look  yar  !  "—  How  Reddy 
got  away  with  a  Drover — Allison  of  Le  Roy — "  Notis  !" — 
Promotion — Crawley's  Scare — Frazier  and  the  Swindlers — 
"Dutch  Cooper" — Avery's  "Lightning  Stop"— The  Dog 
Charmer  —  One  Foot  ahead—  "  Don't,  John!" — Workins' 
Leap— Merrill  and  the  Ku  Klux— Rich  Wine — The  Phantom 
Brakeman — A  Bore — In  a  Fog— A  Coupling  Pin— "Put  Down 
the  Brakes" — Dead — And  No  Name. 

REIGHT-MEN,  when  off  duty,  usually  congre- 
gate in  a  way-car  or  caboose  in  the  yard. 
Their's  is  a  rougher  life  than  that  of  the  more 
favored  passenger-men  ;  yet  it  is  not  without  its 
pleasures  and  attractions.  The  Company  looks  to  the 
Freight  Service  for  much  of  its  material  for  advanced 
positions,  and  the  rough  fellow  who  "  checks  "  freight  to- 
day, may  be  your  genteel  Passenger  Conductor  to-mor- 


144 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


row,  or  Division  Superintendent  next  week.  He  is  en- 
thusiastic in  extolling  the  merits  of  his  branch  of  the 
service,  and  dwells  with  ardor  upon  the  advantages  of 
his  own  "  Run  ;  "  the  power  of  his  engine,  the  skill  and 
experience  of  his  engineer,  and  the  wonderful  exploits 
his  "  crew  "  have  performed  in  the  direction  of  "  running 
switches,"  "lightning  stops,"  and  dangerous  couplings. 
He  is  always  ready  to  tell  you,  that  any  one  can  run  a 
passenger  truck,  but  that  the  management  of  a  freight 
train  requires  great  knowledge  of  the  road,  and  vast  ex- 
ecutive ability.  He  is  exceedingly  jealous  of  his  dignity 
and  authority,  and  will  not  hesitate  to  use  force  in  the 
protection  of  what  he  calls  his  rights.  Unwilling  at 
all  times  to  acknowledge  superior  merits  in  his  cotempo- 
raries,  the  conductor  who  is  sent  above  him  to  a  passen- 
ger train,  becomes  his  mortal  enemy.  He  sometimes 
allows  himself  to  be  on  speaking  terms  with  passenger- 
men,  but  he  knew  most  of  them  when  they  were  "  freight 
heavers,"  and  he  regards  them  merely  as  creatures  of 
luck,  or  the  favorites  of  some  corrupt  system  of  promo- 
tion. When  he  becomes  a  passenger-man  himself,  he 
regards  the  promotion  merely  as  a  tardy  recognition  of 
his  merits,  and  turns  his  back  upon  his  old  comrades  who 
spend  their  railway  lives  upon  the  outside  rather  than 
within  the  cars.  You  who  have  travelled  have  met  the 
freight-man  newly  metamorphosed  into  the  conductor  of 
a  passenger  train.  He  is  the  cross-grained,  overbearing 
tyrant,  who  answers  your  questions  with  a  jerk  as  though 
he  were  conferring  a  favor.  Who  has  never  time  to  be 
polite  or  well-bred.  He  wears  fashionable  garments  and 
indulges  in  "  loud  jewelry."  He  treats  those  under  him 
as  menials,  and  fawns  with  the  supercilious  air  of  a 
courtier   upon  those  who   occupy   stations  above   him. 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


145 


When  the  smell  of  the  freight  wears  off,  he  sometimes 
takes  on  a  polish  which  comes  of  constantly  brushing 
against  travelled  people  and  men  of  the  world  :  and  with 
a  good  heart  within,  he  finally  develops  into  "  the  most 
popular  man  on  the  road." 

Those  of  his  kind  who  refuse  or  neglect  to  help  on  the 
developing  process,  degenerate  again,  and  we  find  them 
"  running  freight "  on  some  other  and  distant  line. 

They  are  hardly  as  cosmopolitan,  as  a  class,  as  passen- 
ger-men, and  in  meeting  with  a  few  to-day  in  a  way-car, 
the  author  cannot  promise  an  extensive  assortment.  A 
passenger-man  of  standing  may  leave  one  line  and 
readily  obtain  a  corresponding  position  upon  another.  A 
freight-man  with  a  real  or  supposed  prospect  of  promo- 
tion constantly  before  him,  is  quite  apt  to  remain  on  one 
line,  until  this  hope  is  realized  or  abandoned.  Passing 
their  railway  lives  upon  the  top  of  the  train — so  to  speak 
— mingling  with  boxes,  bales,  and  bundles,  rather  than 
with  living,  bustling  human  beings,  their  everyday  ex- 
periences are  dull  and  monotonous.  The  sunshine  of 
Romance  very  rarely  lights  up  the  freight-man's  sky,  and 
if  a  joke  or  a  bit  of  fun  comes  aboard  with  his  merchan- 
dise, it  is  the  exception  rather  than  the  rule. 

A  freight  train  with  a  passenger  caboose  attached  is 
called  on  some  lines  an  "Accommodation  Train."  It 
"accommodates"  the  Company  rather  than  the  public, 
and  derives  its  chief  recommendation  from  the  fact,  that 
it  "  stops  at  all  stations."  As  this  train  has  been  side- 
tracked for  the  night,  we  find  a  number  of  the  boys 
gathered  in  its  caboose. 

"  As  I  was  going  through  the  car  on  my  run  to-day," 
said  Sayre,  "  I  saw  a  lady  smoking  a  pipe  very  industri- 
ously in  a  rear  seat. 
7 


1^6  EVERYDAY  LIFE   OJV  THE  RAIL. 

"  '  Madam,'  said  I,  as  courteously  as  I  knew  how, 
'we  don't  even  allow  men  to  smoke  in  this  car.' 

" '  That  is  an  excellent  rule,  sir,'  she  replied,  with  the 
utmost  coolness ;  *  if  I  see  any  man  smoking  in  here, 
I'll  inform  you  at  once.' 

"  I  think  she  was  some  lecturess  on  woman's  rights." 

"  Joe  Packard,  now  of  the  Illinois  Central,  is  probably 
the  worst  cut-up  man  on  any  road.  Scarcely  a  portion 
of  his  body  but  has  its  scars.  His  last  freak  was  an  at- 
tempt to  leap  from  a  way-car  that  was  off  the  track,  on 
to  a  coal  flat.  Just  as  he  jumped  the  coupling  gave  way, 
the  car  stopped,  and  he  struck  down  in  the  road-bed, 
where  there  wasn't  a  particle  of  coal.  He  says  he  made 
a  better  jump  since,  all  the  way  from  the  Erie  to  the  Illi- 
nois Central.  He  used  to  come  in  every  trip  with  a  new 
'religious  conundrum,'  as  he  called  them.  He  would 
go  up  into  the  office  and  shoot  them  off  at  some  one  at 
headquarters.     I  remember  the  last  one,  very  well. 

"  '  How  many  boiled  eggs  could  the  giant  Goliath  eat  on 
an  empty  stomach  ? ' 

"  '  Fifty  dozen,'  replied  one. 

"  '  No,  sir,  only  a  single  egg.  If  he  ate  one  egg,  his 
stomach  wouldn't  be  empty,  would  it?'  " 

Joe  has  a  Sabbath-school  now  at  Amboy,  with  Captain 
Wells,  Rosenbush,  and  John  Henry  as  pupils. 

"  Secoy  said  he  was  going  to  tell  the  boys  how  Court- 
ney got  out  against  Brown.  He  believed  George  would 
get  off  a  joke  if  the  Angel  Gabriel  should  blow  his  horn. 
I  was  running  the  extra  freight,  with  Courtney  as  my  en- 
gineer, and  Brown  was  pulling  brother.  Bristol.  We  were 
pulling  into  Neponset,  when  we  met  24  with  her  flag  gone, 
and  then  went  for  Kewanee.  When  in  the  hollow,  west 
of  Neponset,  met  Bristol  and  Brown  going  for  Neponset. 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   OJV  THE  RAIL. 


147 


Thought  something  was  wrong,  and  Brown  was  evidently 
of  the  same  opinion.  Courtney  commenced  to  back  up, 
but  the  grade  was  too  much  for  him.  I  ran  out  after 
Brown  to  stop  him.  He  was  handling  his  engine  with 
masterly  skill,  but  still  he  gained  on  George,  whose  nerve 
failed  him.  He  was  on  the  last  step,  and  his  fireman  on 
the  other,  ready  to  jump.  For  forty  rods  they  ran  within  a 
car's  length  of  each  other,  at  a  five-mile  gait — we  trying 
to  get  away,  Brown  trying  to  stop.  Brown  stood  with  one 
hand  on  the  throttle  and  the  other  on  the  lever — while 
Courtney,  at  this  hazardous  moment,  passed  in  one  of  his 
jokes. 

"When  he  was  in  the  army,  he  took  a  job  at  driving* 
mules.  He  had  a  yellow  mule  in  which  he  had  no  con- 
fidence whatever.  One  night,  after  eating  up  the  bows 
of  the  wagon,  this  yellow  mule  commenced  pawing 
Courtney  out  from  under  it,  in  order  to  eat  him  up.  He 
thought  his  chances  now  were  about  as  big  as  when  the 
yellow  mule  was  after  him. 

"All  this  danger  was  brought  about  through  the  care- 
lessness of  a  brakeman  who  let  his  white  lamp  go  out." 

"Last  fall,"  said  Patch,  "Tom  Holdsworth  had  an  Ex- 
tra Stock  East,  on  the  Main  Line.  He  stopped  on  the 
grade,  and  Len.  Bassett,  a  brakeman,  went  back  to  flag. 
In  starting  up,  the  train  broke  in  two.  Bassett,  seeing 
that  he  could  not  stop  the  train  that  Avas  following,  and 
gaining  rapidly  upon  them,  rushed  for  his  own  train, 
woke  up  his  drovers,  and  jumped  them  out,  saving  a 
number  of  lives.  He  then  put  on  brakes  and  stopped 
his  train,  the  result  being  but  a  slight  damage  to  the  way- 
car.  This  was  an  exhibition  of  nerve  that  you  don't  see 
every  day." 

"  Oh,  I   don't  know  as  it  beats  Lucas  much,"  said 


I48  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

Lowry.  "Brakeman,  Charlie  Lucas,  saw  a  head-light 
one  night,  coming  pretty  close.  He  took  his  torpedoes 
and  red  light,  and  went  back.  Arriving  at  the  proper 
distance,  he  found  he  was  flagging  a  belated  farmer  who 
was  hunting  up  stray  stock.  There  were  no  signs  of 
any  other  pursuing  train.  Charlie's  name  has  since  been 
changed  from  Lucas  to  looseness,  though  he  never  gets 
tight." 

"  Do  you  know  how  near  Bill  P came  to  getting 

his  foot  in  it?"  asked  "Pigeon." 

"  Didn't  think  there  was  anything  big  enough  to  hold 
it!" 

"  Yes,  about  ten  years  ago,  he  applied  to  Hammond 
for  a  passenger  train. 

"  'AH  right,  sir,'  replied  the  colonel,  '  only  one  objec- 
tion.' 

" « What's  that  ? '  asked  P . 

"  '  Require  an  extra  coach  to  carry  your  feet.'  " 

"  Doc.  Merriman  says  he  was  coming  down  grade  once, 
to  side-track  for  some  train,  when  he  saw  obstructions  on 
the  track  ahead.  There  were  two  or  three  inches  of  snow 
on  the  track,  which  made  them  more  visible,  of  course.  He 
reversed,  called  for  brakes,  and  sent  his  fireman  down  to 
clear  the  way.  Fireman  returned,  and  said  there  was 
nothing  there.  '  Doc'  swore,  and  went  himself.  After 
surveying  the  obstacles  a  moment,  he  looked  over  to  the 
switch,  and  there  stood  Patch. 

"  '  Patch,'  yelled  'Doc.,'  'the  next  time  you  crossthe 
track  in  front  of  my  engine,  I  want  you  to  pick  up  your 
tracks.  There  ain't  an  engine  on  the  road  can  git  over 
'em  in  three  inches  of  snow.'  " 

"  I  think  I  can  couple  on  to  that,"  said  Richardson, 
"  and  get  ahead.     Sam  Young,  well  known  in  Truckee, 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  149 

Nev.,  is  conductor  on  a  freight  train  running  to  Visalia, 
on  the  Southern  Pacific  Road.  One  night  when  the 
moon  was  full,  his  train  was  steaming  over  the  broad 
plain  near  Visalia,  just  as  the  orb  of  night  was  rising." 

"  Orb  of  night  is  very  good  indeed,"  said  Love. 

"  The  moon,"  continued  "  Rich,"  "  appeared  like  a  lo- 
comotive head-light,  in  front  of  the  train,  apparently,  at 
considerable  distance  ahead.  The  instant  he  saw  the 
light,  Sam  yelled  to  the  engineer  to  stop  the  train;  'for 
God's  sake  to  reverse.' 

"  The  alarm  was  given,  the  brakes  whistled  down  in  a 
jiffy,  and  the  train  stopped.  The  conductor  jumped  off 
and  ran  on  ahead  a  few  hundred  yards  as  rapidly  as  pos- 
sible on  the  track,  and  commenced  swinging  his  red  lan- 
tern as  a  signal  of  danger  to  the  supposed  approaching 
train.  After  worrying  himself  out  in  running  and  swing- 
ing his  light,  he  stopped  a  moment,  completely  out  of 
breath,  and  took  a  square  look  at  the  fancied  monster  in 
front.  Sam  Young  saw  the  '  man  in  the  moon,'  and  the 
truth  flashed  upon  him  that  he  was  awfully  bilked.  He 
hastened  back  to  his  train,  and  told  the  engineer  to  go 
ahead,  as  the  danger  of  a  collision  was  more  remote  than 
he  had  calculated.  The  engineer,  fireman,  and  brake- 
man  discovered  the  mistake  before  the  conductor  did, 
and  when  the  latter  returned,  there  was  such  an  explosion 
of  laughter  as  was  probably  never  heard  before  on  a 
freight  train.  Sam  promised  to  stand  treat  for  the  next 
six  months  if  the  parties  who  witnessed  the  blunder 
would  agree  not  to  make  it  public.  But  the  joke  was 
too  broad  and  too  good  to  keep,  and,  in  spite  of  the  prom- 
ises made,  it  leaked  out." 

"  Cook,  of  the  P.,  P.  &  J.,  went  into  Chicago  and  paid 
a  visit  to  the  Dollar  Store.     After  making  some  trifling 


ISO 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  KAIL. 


purchases,  he  offered  the  pretty  saleswoman  a  dollar  for  a 
kiss.     The  lady  agreed  and  delivered  the  goods. 

"  •  Now,'  says  she,  with  a  pretty  foreign  accent,  '  give 
me  another  dollar,  and  you  may  kiss  my  mother.'  Cook 
was  delighted  with  the  adventure,  and  paid  over  the  dol- 
lar. The  girl  went  out  and  returned,  leading  in  a  wrin- 
kled old  bleared-eyed  female,  hobbling  on  crutches. 

"  ■  Here  she  is ! ' 

" '  Not  any,  if  you  please,  Miss — the  fact  of  it  is,  I 
never  mix  drinks.  I  am  a  freight  conductor  on  the  P.,  P. 
&  J.  Send  her  to  the  depot,  and  I'll  bill  her  through  at 
special  rates  ! '  " 

Bill  and  George  Blazer  are  well-known  on  the  H.  & 
St.  Joe,  the  one  a  conductor  and  the  other  a  brakeman. 
It  was  never  known  what  they  did  with  that  cotton,  but 
every  time  they  stop  at  a  certain  station,  a  colored  girl 
pushes  her  way  through  the  crowd,  and  cries  : 

"  Say,  dar !  you  Blazer  boys — if  you  don't  fetch  back  dat 
ar  cotton,  I  call  out  your  name  loud  as  ever  I  kin  holler." 

Drovers,  as  a  class,  are  the  most  impudent  and  tyranni- 
cal patrons  of  the  Road.  It  does  the  boys  good  to  get 
away  with  one  occasionally.  Ike  Lovvrey — known  on 
the  C,  B.  &  Q.  as  "Champagne  Charley" — went  out 
with  a  stock  train  one  day,  with  "  Reddy  "  Blair  as  brake- 
man.  When  they  got  to  Altona,  Ike  sent  Reddy  back 
to  tell  the  drovers  that  "  now  was  a  good  time  to  get  up 
their  stock."  One  of  the  drovers  said  to  Reddy,  "  Is  my 
stock  down?"  "  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  brakeman.  "You 
are  a  liar,"  said  the  insolent  drover.  "  You  are  a  gentle- 
man," responded  Reddy,  "which  is  the  biggest  lie  I 
know  of."  "Get  out  of  this  car,"  said  the  drover. 
"  Who  is  running  this  car  ?  "  retorted  Reddy.  "  I  can 
run  it  if  I  want  to,"  said  the  drover,  waxing  warm.     "  I 


W'jJ\  J 


ifm* 


XJoMPLrrtH<f   the  Job  qw  the  t^ack5 

PA9£  151      ' 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  151 

came  here  like  a  gentleman  to  notify  you  that  your 
stock  was  down,  and  you  insult  me.  Now  get  out  of 
this  car,  or  there  will  be  a  piece  of  stock  down  that 
can't  get  up."  Reddy  then  went  for  him,  and  put  a 
Mansard  roof  over  both  of  his  eyes,  punching  him  se- 
verely, and  drawing  him  from  the  car,  completing  the  job 
on  the  track.  Then,  calling  assistance,  the  drover  was 
carried  back  into  the  car,  where  the  boys  washed  and 
dressed  his  wounds.  The  affair  was  subsequently  inves- 
tigated at  headquarters,  and  the  decision  rendered  that 
employes  are  justified  in  protecting  their  rights  and  dig- 
nity upon  all  occasions.  This  incident  occurred  about  six 
months  ago,  and  last  week  the  drover's  shirt  collar  was 
dug  out  of  a  coal-pit  near  Altona,  and  it  now  hangs  in  a 
frame  in  Roger's  way-car  as  a  bloody  warning  to  all 
drovers  not  to  drive  too  fast. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  learn  from  the  Eastern  papers,"  said 
Burton,  "  that  my  old  friend  Jim  Allison  has  gone  into 
the  counterfeit-money  business.  Not  that  he  was  caught 
in  the  act  of  '  shoving  the  queer,'  but  that  he  had  the 
'  queer '  in  his  possession,  there  can  be  no  doubt.  Jim 
is  agent  at  Le  Roy,  on  the  Erie  Road,  and  is  known  all 
over  that  line  as  the  prince  of  good  fellows,  and  very 
fond  of  a  joke.  A  short  time  since  he  received  a  valu- 
able (?)  package  from  those  sharpers  in  New  York — a 
small  box  of  sawdust  and  $92  in  bogus  greenbacks. 
Upon  paying  the  C.  O.  D.  and  examining  his  prize,  Jim 
acknowledged  that  it  was  the  first  time  he  ever  bought  a 
'sell,'  and  paid  for  it  in  cash,  in  his  life.  The  papers 
of  Le  Roy  thereupon  published  the  facts,  and  warned 
the  public  to  look  out  for  Allison  and  his  counterfeit 
money." 

Simpson,  of  Buda,  says  there  is  a  sign  hung  in  a  con- 


152 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


spicuous  place  at  a  certain  station  on  the  T.,  P.  &  W., 
with  the  following,  painted  in  gilt  letters  : 

"  NOTIS. 
"  Aple  bois  are  forbid  to  pedle  tliar  stuff  on  these  Platform." 

It  is  feared  the  author  of  that  "Notis"  is  subject  to 
attacks  of  appleplexy. 

"The  system  of  promotion  on  some  of  our  roads," 
remarked  the  Honorable  Freeman  of  the  Kansas  Pacific, 
"if  there  is  a  system  at  all,  is  not  very  well  defined. 
There  is  a  passenger  conductor  on  the  C,  B.  &  Q.  Road 
in  Illinois,  that  jumped  all  apprenticeship  and  rode  into 
his  present  berth  over  the  heads  of  good  men  who  had 
been  at  the  wheel  for  years.  Another  worthy  fellow  on 
the  same  road,  Jim  Howland  for  instance,  recently  got  a 
freight  train  after  braking  on  the  same  road  for  ten  or 
twelve  years.  Sometimes,  of  course,  it  is  the  fault  of  the 
men,  but  it  oftener  happens  that  their  claims  and  merits 
are  overlooked. 

"  Now,  there's  Billy  Murphy,  running  passenger  on  the 
Albany  and  Susquehanna.  He  was  formerly  a  Justice  of 
the  Peace  at  Schoharra,  New  York — a  man  of  few  trials. 
Through  the  influence  of  influential  friends,  he  got  his 
present  position,  never  serving  a  minute  at  the  wheel. 
I'm  all  smashed  up  now,  and  can't  get  about  much,  so  I'd 
like  to  ask  Billy  if  he  remembers  when  he  pitched  into 
my  peanut  stand  at  Schoharra,  and  if  he  has  ever  asked 
to  be  forgiven?  Also,  if 'Fat  Jack'  (he  used  to  weigh 
450,  boys,  as  sure  as  that's  a  crutch) — if  Fat  Jack  and  Cas. 
Griffin,  of  the  same  road,  remember  that  they  were  run- 
ning as  bounty-jumpers  in  the  army  when  I  was  U.  S. 
Deputy  Marshal  at  Albany?" 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  153 

Collins — "  Jack,  tell  us  how  you  fellows  scared  Craw- 
ley out  on  the  U.  P.,  or  whatever  road  it  was." 

Freeman — "Well;  we  thought  it  was  a  joke  then; 
but  it's  hardly  worth  telling  here.  Johnnie  Crawley  was 
train  despatcher  then,  good  man,  too.  He  is  now  train 
despatcher  of  the  Lake  Superior  and  Minnesota  Road, 
headquarters  at  Duluth.  We  started  out  of  Bear  river 
with  a  gravel  train  ;  at  the  time  I  had  charge  of  the 
pit.  Crawley  was  on,  and  when  we  got  near  Aspen  he 
thought  we  wasn't  going  quite  fast  enough.  I  told  the 
engineer  to  let  her  out.  In  a  few  moments  that  train 
was  flying.  It  wasn't  certain  that  the  wheels  would  stand 
that  rate  of  speed.  Crawley  told  me  to  hold  her  up,  and 
Frank  Brown,  the  conductor,  tried  to  put  on  the  brakes. 
I  picked  up  a  chunk  of  coal  and  told  Brown  to  let  her 
go,  or  I'd  bust  his  head,  until  Crawley,  pale  with  fear, 
yelled  out : 

" '  This  train  will  never  reach  the  pit  in  the  world ; 
she's  bound  for  the  ditch.' 

"And  he  got  ready  to  jump  ;  but  we  made  the  pit." 

"  Walbaum,  a  well-known  railway-bridge  builder,  was 
travelling  on  a  train  not  long  since,  when  he  was  accosted 
by  a  couple  of  swindlers,  who  showed  him  a  mysterious 
padlock.  They  were  willing  to  bet  $10  that  he  couldn't 
open  it,  after  being  shown  how  it  was  done.  The  trick, 
it  seems,  was  in  changing  the  key.  Frazier,  one  of  Wal- 
baum's  men,  took  the  bet,  put  up  the  money,  got  a  coup- 
ling pin,  and  opened  it  at  a  single  blow.  He  took  the 
money.     I  saw  that  myself." 

"Dutch  Cooper"  was  coming  west  on  25,  and 
wanted  to  stop  in  the  hollow  near  Wyanet  for  water. 
Frank  Avery,  the  brakeman,  proposed  to  give  him  a 
"lightning  stop"  right  there,  all  by  himself!     Coming 


154 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  HAIL. 


from  Princeton  to  Wyanet,  Frank  fell  asleep  and  failed 
to  get  out.  The  consequence  was  they  ran  by  the  tub, 
clear  into  Wyanet  (you  see  it  was  down  grade),  Cooper 
just  screaming  for  brakes.  He  was  mad,  and  backed  up 
to  the  tub,  swearing  like  a  streak. 

In  the  meantime,  Frank  was  scratching  his  head,  and 
studying  how  he  was  to  get- out  of  the  scrape.  While 
Cooper  was  taking  water,  Avery  goes  over  on  the  engine 
and  says  : 

"  Cooper,  I  like  to  broke  my  leg  back  there." 

"Howishdat?"  asked  C. 

"Well,  I  got  out  on  top,  and  tried  to  set  the  brake, 
but  the  derned  dog  broke,  and  threw  me  off — nearly 
killed  me." 

"  Ish  dat  so  ?  Veil,  I  wash  pooty  tarn  mad ;  but  I 
feelsh  better  now,  as  you  most  broke  your  tam  leg  !  " 

That's  the  way  Avery  made  the  "  lightning  stop  !  " 

Whenever  a  cur,  be  he  of  high  or  low  degree,  catches 
Satterfield's  eye,  that  moment  the  cur  is  doomed.  "  Sat " 
is  known  as  the  "  Dog  Charmer,"  and  he  has  charmed, 
captured,  and  winged  2  78  dogs  since  he  has  been  run- 
ning on  the  East  End.  It  is  a  source  of  revenue  not  to 
be  despised.  His  method  is  similar  to  that  of  the  snake 
that  is  said  to  charm  birds. 

He  catches  the  dog's  eye,  looks  at  him  steadily  for  a 
moment,  and  transfixes  him  to  the  spot.  Then,  making 
a  few  passes,  the  animal  is  magnetized,  and  completely 
under  his  control.  He  has  been  known  to  draw  a  favor- 
ite dog  to  him  in  this  way,  while  the  master's  hand  was 
caressing  his  head,  and  the  poor  thing  would  glide  to 
"  Sat's  "  side,  impelled  by  a  force  it  was  impossible  to  re- 
sist 

"Conductor  P.  ('now  this  is  all  among  ourselves,  you 


EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL.  155 

know,'  said  Rogers)  was  sitting  in  his  way-car,  one  day, 
with  his  legs  crossed,  one  foot,  of  course,  in  air.  A  wag- 
gish passenger,  who  had  been  noticing  the  size  and  pecu- 
liar shape  of  the  pedals,  approached  P.,  and  taking  out 
his  pocket-book,  said : 

" « I  want  to  bet  five  dollars  that  that  is  the  biggest  and 
ugliest  foot  now  living.' 

"  « Put  up  your  money,'  said  P.,  '  I  take  that  bet.' 
"  A  brakeman  was  called  and  the  stakes  placed  in  his 
hands.     P.  then  coolly  exhibited  his  other  foot. 

"  '  The  money  is  yours,'  exclaimed  the  astonished  pas- 
senger, and  P.  was  five  dollars  ahead." 

"  «  Don't,  John  !  Don't,  John  '—These  words  tumbling 
off  the  top  of  a  female  voice,  caused  us  to  rush  for  Sat- 
terfield'  s  way-car.  There  we  found  John  hugging  a  Dutch 
girl,  and  kissing  her  in  the  intervals  of  her  screams.  Af- 
ter we  got  them  separated,  John  explained. 

"  <  You  see  she  had  no  monish,  and  no  ticket,  and  I 
told  her  she  must  get  off.  Den  she  say,  if  I  let  her  ride, 
she  would  let  me  hug  her  and  kiss  her.  I  was  yoost  get- 
tin'  my  fare,  boys— dat  ish  all.  She  not  know  de  fare  to 
Aurora,  and  she  can  no  go  at  half  price.' 

"  So  '  Sat '  went  for  her  again,  claiming  full  fare  ! " 
Jim  Workins  was  coming  along  with  the  way  freight 
on  the  middle  division.  Arriving  at  Arlington,  he  found 
several  trains  there  blocked  up.  Jim  got  his  train  stopped, 
and  went  back  to  flag  the  train  following  him.  After 
stopping  them  pretty  close  to  the  way-car,  he  went  inside, 
and  feeling  tired  went  to  sleep. 

Courtney,  his  engineer,  oiled  the  rails  in  front  of  the 
drivers,  got  up  on  his  engine,  pulled  her  wide  open,  and 
called  for  brakes.  Jim  jumped  to  his  feet,  and  sure  that 
everything  was  going  to  pieces,  leaped  through  the  cu- 


j $6  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

pola,  and  lit  on  his  hands  and  feet.  Never  pausing  to 
look  around,  he  kept  up  this  leap-frog  gait  until  he  cleared 
the  fence. 

Merrill  ran  across  a  band  of  Ku  Klux,  with  hook 
eyes,  on  the  Buda  grade.  Much  alarmed,  he  reported 
the  circumstance  at  headquarters,  describing  their  myste- 
rious movements,  and  detailing  all  the  facts.  An  order 
was  issued  immediately  that  all  trains  should  run  slow 
down  that  grade,  and  uncle  Billy  Hughes  furnished  extra 
lamps.  George  was  complimented  for  working  in  the  in- 
terest of  the  Company — when  it  was  discovered  that  the 
Ku  Klux  were  a  number  of  coal-miners  with  lamps  in 
their  caps. 

"Jim  Richardson,  or  ' Rich]  as  we  called  him,"  said 
Lucas,  "  used  to  brake  for  Dan  Elliott.  On  one  occasion, 
when  running  on  the  Lewiston  Branch,  he  discovered  a 
leak,  a  fluid  of  an  attractive  color  and  odor  issuing  from 
one  of  the  cars.  He  went  for  it  with  his  best  forefinger, 
sucking  as  he  went.  Pleased  with  the  taste,  and  anxious 
to  capture  a  bucket  of  the  wine,  he  out  with  his  key  and 
went  in.  He  found  it  a  car  of  green  hides,  leaking ;  and 
'  Rich '  has  been  hiding  ever  since." 

Hackney,  of  the  Fox  River  Valley  Road,  had  a 
brakeman  of  whom  he  stood  in  the  greatest  fear.  One 
time  he  got  off  the  track,  at  Bonner's  Grove,  on  the  East 
End.  He  was  on  the  engine  at  the  time,  and  in  backing 
got  her  off.  Having  no  flag,  he  had  tied  his  coat  on  the 
back  end  of  the  train,  but  the  circumstance  had  slipped 
his  mind.  Starting  back,  the  wind  blew  the  sleeves  of  the 
coat  violently,  and  Hackney,  thinking  it  was  his  brakeman 
on  his  muscle,  broke  for  the  prairie.  Thaf  s  an  actual 
fact.  He  is  frequently  asked  to  explain  about  that  Phan- 
tom Brakeman ! 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  157 

Crysdale— "  We  had  a  smash-up  down  near  Du  Quoin 
on  the  111.  Central  once,  when  S.  M.  Avery  was  Supt.  of 
the  Central  Branch.  I  don't  know  now  how  much  stock 
was  killed,  but  the  next  day  Mr.  Avery  got  the  following 

letter : 

DoocoiN,  Jan.  18 — 

Smavery 

Sentralia. 

I  want  you  to  cum  yer  at  oncet  theres 
bin-  a  smashup  i  want  you  to  bring  six  dollars  to  pay  for  mi  hog 
-the  hog  squeeled,  but  the  engine  wouldn't  stop  its  a  bore. 

,    J.  Cerample. 

"The  old  man  thought  it  was  'a  bore'  sure  enough." 

Sayre— "About  the   only  thing  a  conductor  fears  is 

the  dense  fog.     We  were  caught  in  one,  one  trip,  and  if 

you  will  let  me  spit  it  out  in  my  own  way,  maybe  you  can 

understand.  . 

«  <  Hank,'  says  I,  'you  go  over  and  tell  Spielman  (engi- 
neer) to  keep  a  wild  eye.  Second  extra  on  No.  18,  left 
Leland  about  five  minutes  ago.  Look  back  pretty  often, 
see  if  they're  coming.  Tell  Spielman  to  side-track  and 
let  No  Four  by,  at  Sandwich.  Tell  him  to  get  in  out  of 
the  way,  quicker  than  lightning,  for  No.  Four  will  be 
whooping  'em  up,  by  the  time  she  strikes  the  whistling 
post.  I  don't  want  to  drop  any  torpedo  on  her  to-night, 
for  Si.  has  got  28  just  out  of  the  shop  and  he'd  hate  aw- 
fully to  flag  that  engine.' 

"Hank  says,  'All  right,'  and  rushes  up  the  ladder, 
and  over  on  to  the  engine.  Fog!  No,  I  guess  not. 
On  arriving  at  the  switch,  Spielman  whistles  down  brakes. 
I  call  out  from  the  way-car  and  ask,  What's  the  mat- 
ter?    Si.  says,  Extra  ahead  on  one  side-track,  engine 


I58  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

disabled  on  the  other.  About  that  time  I  could  hear  No. 
Four  coming  over  the  iron  bridge,  about  a  mile  off !  I 
picked  up  red  light  and  ran  back  with  the  flag.  Ran  as 
far  as  I  dared ;  slapped  down  two  torpedoes.  Ran  a  lit- 
tle farther,  and  could  just  see  No.  Four's  head-light. 
Looked  to  be  about  forty  feet  in  the  air.  Could  almost 
feel  her  hot  breath,  as  she  came  tearing  along,  anxious  to 
make  up  every  lost  minute.  Si.  behind  her — anxious  for 
the  reputation  of  his  better  half,  as  he  styled  his  engine — 
was  peering  through  the  fog.  As  he*  see  the  red  flag 
waved  across  the  track,  he  whistled  down  brakes ;  and 
without  waiting  to  shut  her  off,  hauled  her  over.  Rail 
being  wet,  she  slipped,  and  as  he  struck  the  torpedoes,  he 
slipped  out  between  tender  and  engine,  and  took  a  look 
at  things.  About  that  time  his  head-light  shone  on  the 
hind  end  of  a  way-car,  and  four  or  five  drovers  were 
climbing  off — boot  in  one  hand,  and  a  prod  in  the  other 
— making  for  a  corn-field. 

"A  miss  is  as  good  as  a  mile,  so  Si.  felt  greatly  re- 
lieved, when  he  discovered  that  the  only  damage  done, 
was  the  wetting  of  the  28  all  over  with  that  peculiar  mix- 
ture of  coal-dust  and  water,  for  which  the  boys  have  an 
appropriate  name.     Believe  me,  I  don't  like  those  fogs." 

When  Foster  was  braking  for  John  "Sat,"  on  the 
East  End,  the  train  broke  in  two.  "Sat"  sent  Foster 
back  for  a  pin,  and  the  new  brakeman  returned  with  a 
common  brass  pin,  that  one  of  the  boys  had  pulled  out 
of  his  coat.  "Sat"  was  a  little  surprised,  but  he  told 
him  to  take  the  pin  and  go  back  and  couple  the  cars. 
Foster  saw  the  point,  and  his  knowledge  of  coupling-pins 
dates  from  that  occasion. 

"In  regard  to  promotion,"  said  George,  "men  who 
brake  on  freight  trains  are  the  first  to  rise.     The  brake- 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  159 

man  on  a  first-class  passenger  never  looks  out  for  any 
other  train,  while  the  brakeman  on  freight  has  to  look  out 
for  every  other  train,  especially  if  he  is  running  extra. 
He  must  know  the  time-card  thoroughly,  and  keep  his 
eyes  open  all  the  time.  A  man  who  wants  to  learn  rail- 
roading must  begin  with  this  practice.  The  freight  brake- 
man  goes  through  an  experience,  while  the  man  on  a 
passenger  goes  through  nothing." 

PUT  DOWN  THE  BRAKES. 

No  matter  how  well  the  track  is  laid, 
No  matter  how  strong  the  engine  is  made, 
When  you  find  it  running  on  the  downward  grade, 
Put  down  the  brakes  ! 

If  the  demon  of  drink  has  entered  the  soul, 
And  his  power  is  getting  beyond  your  control, 
And  dragging  you  on  to  a  terrible  goal, 
Put  down  the  brakes  ! 

Remember  the  adage,  "Don't  trifle  with  fire," 
Temptation,  you  know,  is  always  a  liar ; 
If  you  want  to  crush  out  the  burning  desire, 
Put  down  the  brakes ! 

Are  you  running  in  debt  by  living  too  fast  ? 
Do  you  look  back  with  shame  on  a  profitless  past, 
And  feel  that  your  ruin  is  coming  at  last  ? 
Put  down  the  brakes  I 

Whether  for  knowledge,  for  honor  or  gain, 
You  are  fast  wearing  out  your  body  and  brain, 
'Till  nature  no  longer  can  bear  the  strain, 
Put  down  the  brakes ! 

The  human  is  weak,  since  Adam's  fall ; 
Beware  how  you  yield  to  appetite's  call ; 


160  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

"  Be  temperate  in  all  things,"  was  practised  by  Paul ; 
Put  down  the  brakes  ! 

Ah,  a  terrible  thing  is  human  life  ! 
Its  track  with  many  a  danger  is  rife ; 
Do  you  seek  for  the  victor's  crown  in  the  strife  ? 
Put  down  the  brakes  I 


XV 


DEAD— AND  NO  NAME. 

[December  i8,  1867,  several  persons  were  burned  to  death  in  the  disaster  at 
Angola.  A  young  lady  was  found  in  the  rear  end  of  a  coach,  seated  upright,  in  a 
natural  position — Dead  !  There  were  traces  of  fire  upon  the  hat  or  bonnet,  the 
hair  was  slightly  burned,  and  a  portion  of  the  dress  ;  the  eyes  and  lips  wearing 
marks  of  violence.  There  were  evidences  of  rare  beauty  ;  the  clothing  was  costly 
and  elegant ;  but  there  was  nothing  to  lead  to  identification,  save  a  single  initial 
found  upon  her  garments,  the  plain  letter  "  M."  There  was  no  luggage,  and 
Mr.  John  Fisk,  the  conductor,  had  but  a  vague  impression  that  she  was  going  to 
Le  Roy.  The  car  in  which  she  was  found  was  only  slightly  damaged  by  fire,  and 
it  was  supposed  that  she  died  from  fright.  Others  thought  that  some  villain, 
taking  advantage  of  the  excitement  and  confusion,  attempted  a  nameless  crime, 
and  she  died  through  fear  of  a  worse  fate  than  death  by  fire.  All  efforts  to  obtain 
a  clue  to  her  name  and  history,  were  in  vain.] 

HERE  is  the  face, 

With  marks  of  fire  on  it,  remains  of  a  bonnet, 
A  piece  of  veil  round  it,  just  as  they  found  it, 
But  no  certain  trace. 

Eyes  all  a  blot ; 
The  torn  lips  remaining,  a  half  smile  retaining — 
Closed  with  a  prayer — could  God  have  been  there, 

Or  was  she  forgot  ? 

A  bit  of  rare  lace ; 
Around  the  neck  turning,  saved  from  the  burning, 
Charged  with  a  clue,  to  some  lover  true, 

Who  knew  her  embrace. 


i62  DEAD— AND  NO  NAME. 

Handkerchief  ?     Yes ! 
Richly  embroidered,  now  soiled  and  disordered, 
Here,  near  the  hem,  the  plain  letter  "  M," 

The  rest  you  may  guess. 

A  torn  glove  there  ! 
In  it  still  lingers  the  shape  of  the  fingers ; 
That  some  one  has  pressed,  may  be,  and  caressed, 

So  slender  and  fair. 

A  ring  here  you  see  ! 
No  name  or  date  on  it,  yet  love  must  have  won  it ; 
A  pledge  of  vows  plighted,  perhaps  of  love  slighted- 

Where  can  he  be  ? 

One  heavy  shawl, 
On  the  seat  near  her,  it  could  not  be  clearer ; 
Spotted  and  soiled,  torn  and  all  spoiled 

And— that  is  all ! 

Under  the  hat, 
With  the  bit  of  veil  round  it,  just  as  they  found  it, 
Rich  golden  hair — a  mother  somewhere, 

Would  recognize  that ! 

Years  now  have  passed ; 
And  her  sad  history  remains  yet  a  mystery, 
Attempts  to  obtain  some  clue  were  in  vain, 

Till  hope  died  at  last. 

Dead — and  no  name  ! 
Was  it  some  sorrow,  the  dread  of  to-morrow, 
Or  was  there  foul  play  ?     There  is  no  one  to  say, 

And  no  one  to  blame. 


XVI. 


HOW  TO   DETECT  THEM. 


BY  AN  OLD  CONDUCTOR. 


|HEN  the  Fall  season  fairly  sets  in,  the  matri- 
monial  market   is   buoyant,    and  hundreds   of 
miss-guided  young  men  rush  into  the  holy  es- 
tate.    A  more  than  usual  number  of  wedding 
tourists  are  noticed  by  conductors  on  different  railroads. 

Of  course,  it  is  not  on  account  of  being  ashamed  of 
each  other  that  they  try  to  disguise  their  situation,  but 
simply  to  avoid  being  criticised  and  remarked  upon  by 
profane  strangers.  Thus  they  lay  the  fond  unction  to 
their  souls,  that  they  are  travelling  incog.!  But,  good 
gracious  !  how  badly  fooled  they  are.  It  is  one  of  the 
easiest  things  in  the  world,  to  the  careful  eye,  to  tell  pre- 
cisely how  many  days,  or  even  hours,  they  have  been 
spliced.  They  can  sometimes  be  detected  by  the  great 
pains  they  take  to  appear  like  old  married  people  or 
cousins,  as  they  sit  demurely  in  the  cars.  In  many 
cases  their  dress  in  part  exposes  them — it  is  so  apropos 
to  the  occasion,  being  neat,  symmetrical,  and  bran  new. 


1 64  H0W  T0  DETECT  THEM. 

In  cases  where  the  parties  have  good  taste,  there  is  no 
gaudiness  or  flub-dubbing  about  their  attire.  All  glitter 
and  display  are  thrown  aside,  and  the  city  belle  appears 
more  like  a  Quakeress  in  her  simple  travelling  dress  of 
drab  or  mouse-color. 

Sometimes  the  youthful  culprits  engage  in  playing  at 
lovers,  or  affect  a  flirtation,  but  it  is  always  a  stupendous 
failure.  Their  eyes  betray  too  much  happiness  for  wit 
and  repartee ;  there  is  such  a  peculiar  softness  and  ten- 
derness in  their  confidential  whispers,  and  such  a  pride 
in  the  possession  of  each  other,  that  none  around 
them  are  deceived.  It  is  generally  the  case,  that  the 
bridegroom  makes  the  discovery  first,  and  throws  his  arm 
carelessly  around  the  shoulders  of  his  wife,  as  much  as  to 
say  defiantly  to  the  envious,  "  Who's  afraid  ?  Who  knows 
but  we  have  been  married  many  years  ?  "     Not  know  ? 

The  guilty  slyness  in  the  way  that  arm  steals  round, 
first  on  the  seat-back,  then  gradually  closer,  while  the 
bride  evinces  a  silent  pleasure  as  she  acquiesces  in  a 
very  unperceiving  way.  Indeed,  it  is  she  who  lets  the 
cat  out  of  the  bag,  most  quickly.  The  narrow-gauge 
seats  are  most  preferable  to  the  broad-gauge,  and  if  you 
sit  on  the  seat  back  of  them,  you  will  observe  at  first 
the  lady's  shoulders  are  not  even — they  incline  just  a  lit- 
tle to  her  partner.  After  travelling  in  this  position  a  few 
hours,  her  neck  gets  as  limber  as  a  washed  paper  collar, 
and  her  head  gravitates  to  the  broad  shoulders  of  her 
husband,  and  there  it  nestles  innocently  and  confidingly, 
in  the  repose  of  honest,  pure,  and  truthful  love.  At 
times,  in  spite  of  all  precautions,  a  tress  or  two  of  her 
golden  locks  will  get  loose  and  drop  on  her  shoulder. 
But  it  almost  seems  that  there  is  order  and  neatness  in 
their  very  disorder  and  abandon. 


ON  COMMISSION.  1 65 

So  they  go,  fancying  themselves  lost  in  the  crowd — un- 
noticed, unknown ;  with  their  secret  locked  up  in  their 
own  palpitating  bosoms.     Poor  young  people  ! 


ON  COMMISSION. 


A  conductor's  complaint. 


I  wish  to  ask  what  I  am  to  do  for  the  abatement  of  a 
certain  nuisance,  to  which  I  am  much  exposed.  The 
question  is  one  of  those  which  I  feel  sure  that  nobody  on 
earth  can  answer,  for  which  reason  I  am  the  more  deeply 
impressed  with  the  necessity  of  putting  it. 

Mine  is  the  case  of  A.  B.,  a  single  man,  who  says  he 
is  not  likely  to  marry.  His  age  he  refuses  to  state  with 
precision,  but  admits  that  it  is  not  under  thirty-nine.  Is 
a  passenger  conductor,  and  not  a  wealthy  man.  To 
make  the  most  of  his  income,  he  has  to  exercise  the 
most  rigid  economy.  He  resides  at  a  station  on  a  road 
running  into  the  city  of  New  York— you  may  call  it 
Poughkeepsie  or  Salamanca.  It  was  his  fate  to  have 
been  born  and  reared  in  that  town,  and  to  be  personally 
acquainted  with  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  it.  Is 
quite  sure  that  he  never  takes  his  train  from  that  station 
without  being  loaded  with  commissions.  Cannot  be  de- 
ceived in  his  recollection  on  that  subject.  Said  com- 
missions have  on  several  occasions  broken  his  peace, 
and  deprived  him  of  the  liberty  of  action  to  which  he 
considers  himself  by  law  entitled. 

He  thinks  it  may  be  true,  that  as  a  general  rule,  a  lit- 
tle commission  taken  singly  is  a  trifle;  but  that  little 
commissions  become  onerous  by  reason  of  their  multi- 


!66  ON  COMMISSION. 

tude  and  variety.  He  doubts  whether  a  conductor  start- 
ing out  on  his  run,  be  not  an  ass  when  he  permits  his  pan- 
niers to  be  laden  to  his  own  discomfort.  His  particular 
misery  is,  that  he  himself  knows  not  how  to  avoid  being 
such  an  ass,  unless  he  be  content  that  all  his  friends 
should  regard  him  as  a  good-for-nothing,  disobliging  cur- 
mudgeon. He  has  thought  of  quitting  Poughkeepsie  or 
Salamanca  forever ;  he  has  also  thought  of  never  quitting 
it  for  half  an  hour.  The  origin  of  A.  B.'s  grievance  is  to 
be  found,  perhaps,  in  his  possession  of  a  certain  reputa- 
tion for  the  scrupulous  exactness  which  is  not  uncommon 
in  bachelors  ;  and  for  good-nature,  as  well  as  a  conscien- 
tious desire  to  discharge  himself  honestly  of  any  trust  re- 
posed in  him.  He  has  known  young  friends  to  keep 
a  commission  in  reserve  three  weeks,  in  order  that  it 
might  be  his  felicity  to  execute  it. 

A.  B.  further  declares  that  he  has  one  day  of  his  own 
between  trips.  On  this  day  he  is  visited  by  numerous 
friends — each  with  a  commission.  First,  a  small  boy 
brings  a  note  saying  that  Mrs.  Williams  would  be  glad  to 
see  Mr.  A.  B.  at  once,  on  important  business.  After  the 
ascent  of  a  steep  and  not  undefiled  staircase,  the  depo- 
nent states  that  he  knocked  at  Mrs.  Williams'  door, 
which  was  inscribed  with  her  name  on  a  brass  plate. 
After  a  sufficient  number  of  courtesies  had  passed,  depo- 
nent made  allusion  to  the  "  important  business,"  upon 
which  there  ensued,  as  nearly  as  he  can  remember,  the 
following  conversation  : 

Mrs.  Williams — "  Oh,  my  dear  Mr.  A.  B.,  you  have  no 
idea  how  anxious  I  am  that  nothing  will  prevent  you 
from  taking  your  train  to-morrow.  You  know  the  state 
poor  little  Hofer  is  in.  His  second  teeth,  I  may  say,  are 
all  breaking  out  in  a  mob  over  the  roof  of  his  mouth,  in- 


ON  COMMISSION.  1 67 

stead  of  coming  up  in  file  out  of  his  gums.  You  know 
Mr.  Teether  in  New  York  ?  " 

A.  .#.— "The  great  dentist?" 

Mrs.  Williams — "  Oh,  yes.  You  know  every  one.  I 
have  been  told  that  if  I  would  take  a  model  of  my  Hofer's 
mouth  in  wax,  and  send  it  to  him,  he  can  have  an  instru- 
ment made  which,  when  worn,  will  restore  the  teeth  to 
order.  I  have  already  taken  the  model,  and  it  will  carry 
very  nicely  in  this  little  tin  box.  How  long  are  you  in 
New  York?" 

A.  B.—u  One  day." 

Mrs.  W. — "  I  am  sure  he  can  have  it  made  in  time, 
at  least,  for  your  next  trip.  I  wish  Hofer  was  here,  that 
you  might  look  into  his  mouth,  then  you  would  know 
how  to  explain  it  exactly." 

Deponent  further  states  that,  having  parted  with  this 
lady,  with  a  promise  to  fulfil  her  wish,  and  the  model  of 
Hofer's  mouth  in  his  pocket,  he  called  next  upon  Mrs. 
Ferguson.  A.  B.  deposes  that  a  discharge  of  cannon 
could  not  have  startled  him  more  than  the  production  of 
a  fragile  box  of  card-board,  which  seemed  to  be  about  a 
foot  and  a  half  high,  and  of  the  same  circumference — a 
muff  and  tippet  box — which  she  placed  sideways  before 
him  on  a  chair,  and  which  she  declared  would  take  up  no 
room  at  all  in  his  car.  That  it  was  simply  a  muff  and 
tippet  that  a  relative  in  New  York  had  commissioned 
her  to  send  by  the  first  opportunity. 

A.  B. — "  Pardon  me,  madam,  but  would  it  not  be 
better  to  send  it  by  express.  I  should  be  obliged  to 
carry  it  about  loose." 

Mrs.  F. — "  I  dare  not  trust  those  rough  expressmen, 
they  are  so  careless.  I  should  not  object  to  your  carry- 
ing it  loose,  if  you  will  be  sure  and  not  lose  it."     (After- 


!68  ON  COMMISSION. 

thought,  expressed  with  a  sweet  smile.)  "It  can  sit  on 
your  knee." 

A.  B.  felt  bound  to  smile  amiably,  and  further  deposes 
that  he  took  the  muff  and  tippet,  and  was  under  the 
necessity  of  paying  the  expressage  on  the  parcel  out  of 
his  own  pocket. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Comstock  were  next  visited.  This 
married  couple  had  been  resident  during  three  years  in 
my  station. 

Mrs.  Comstock — "Ah,  yes,  to-morrow  is  your  day. 
How  I  wish  ladies  could  be  conductors.  It  seems  years 
since  I  have  been  in  New  York  ;  but  then  home  is  where 
husband  and  children  are.  By  the  bye,  speaking  of  chil- 
dren, I  must  not  forget  a  little  commission  I  have  to 
give  you." 

A.  B. — "What  is  it;  anything  in  my  power  I  shall  do 
with  all  my  heart  for  you,  Mrs.  Comstock." 

Mrs.  C.  (laughing) — "  Oh,  I  have  only  a  very  little, 
foolish  thing  to  ask.  You  will  laugh,  perhaps,  but  I  re- 
member hearing  my  mother  speak  of  the  benefit  her 
children  derived  from  it.  An  anodyne  necklace — perhaps 
two  " 

A.  B.—"  Half  a  dozen,  if  you  like." 

Mrs.  C.  (playing  with  her  baby) — "That  will  be  too 
many.  One  can  get  nothing  here.  No,  two.  Then  my 
little  darling  will  not  have  the  pain  her  sister  had  in  cut- 
ting tooti-ittle-teethums." 

A.  B.—u  Good-day,  then." 

Deponent  adds,  that  he  paid  other  visits,  or  rather  re- 
plied to  other  notes  in  person  and  received  other  com- 
missions. But  the  whole  harvest  of  commissions  was  not 
reaped.  In  the  evening  there  came  a  note  from  an  old 
skeleton  of  sixty-five,  who  seemed  to  be  fully  persuaded 


ON  COMMISSION.  ifig 

that  cod-liver  oil  would  bring  flesh  to  her  bones,  and  the 
color  of  youth  to  her  cheek  ;  and  that  cod-liver  oil  was  to 
be  had  pure  nowhere  but  in  New  York.  Deponent  was 
to  bring  some  of  that  oil  (which  he  utterly  loathes  and 
abominates).  The  bottle  was  not  likely  to  break  if  care- 
fully packed  in  his  valise  or  ticket-box.  The  next  morn- 
ing, A.  B.  further  states,  as  he  was  about  to  start  his  train, 
he  felt  his  arm  grasped  from  behind,  and  a  soft  voice 
said,  "  One  word,  only  one  word."  The  voice  was  that 
of  our  leading  milliner.  Her  commission  was,  that  I 
should  see  a  sister  of  hers  and  tell  her  that  their  very 
amiable  and  esteemed  friend  Mrs.  R.  was  in  Poughkeep- 
sie  or  Salamanca. 

That  trip  was  tolerably  well  got  through.  The  mes- 
sage concerning  the  existence  in  Poughkeepsie  or  Sala- 
manca, of  the  amiable  and  esteemed  Mrs.  R.,  was  deliv- 
ered to  the  fascinating  sister  in  that  lady's  garden. 

Sister — "  How  good  and  kind  you  are  !  And  this 
charming  Mrs.  R.,  you  will  see  her  ?  " 

A.  B. — "  It  would  give  me  great  happiness  to  do  so." 

Sister — "  Ah  !  Yes,  yes  "  (with  her  hand  on  her  fore- 
head, in  deep  thought).  "  And  what  have  I — "  (suddenly 
very  radiant).     "  What  happy  ideas  ! " 

The  lady  darted  forward,  and  selected  from  a  stand,  a 
tall  flowering  shrub,  of  what  nature  complainant  (who  is 
no  botanist)  is  unable  to  testify ;  but  it  shot  up  to  the 
height  of  three  feet  from  a  large  pot,  and  was  covered 
with  blossoms  of  a  powerful  and  sweet,  but  very  sickly 
odor. 

Sister — "  Dear  Mr.  A.  B.,  I  will  send  it ;  you  will  take 
it?" 

A.  B. — "  Utterly  impossible,  madam  !  " 

Sister  (caressingly) — "  Yes,  yes  !  You  are  so  good 
8 


170 


ON  COMMISSION. 


you  cannot  refuse  me.  What  do  you  say  ?  It  will  be 
spoiled  ?  Not  one  blossom  will  ever  reach  her  ? " 
(Looks  very  serious,  calls  a  gardener,  and  gives  an  order 
in  which  A.  B.  catches  the  word  pasteboard.)  "  Nothing 
is   impossible,    my  kind  friend,    for  you   and  for   me. 

Good-day,  sir.     My  kindest  friendship  for .     Quick, 

Adolphe  !  quick!" 

Adolphe  was  quick,  and  complainant  testifies  that  he 
had  scarcely  reached  the  depot  to  take  his  train,  when 
Adolphe  appeared ;  that  he  had  seated  himself  in  a  coach 
for  a  moment's  chat  with  an  old  friend,  when  Adolphe 
succeeded  in  thrusting  between  his  legs  the  detested 
shrub,  so  packed  as  to  bear  a  strong  resemblance  to  a 
funnel,  and  of  such  height  that  it  reached  to  within  not 
many  inches  of  his  nose.  He  pulled  the  rope  and  the 
train  started.  Before  twenty  minutes  had  elapsed,  a 
young  woman  who  was  sitting  opposite  the  said  shrub, 
turned  suddenly  pale  and  then  fainted ;  whereupon  a  man 
who  seemed  to  be  her  husband,  uttering  many  vile 
phrases,  wrenched  the  said  shrub  from  between  A.  B.'s 
legs,  and  without  a  word  of  apology,  threw  it  out  of  the 
window !     Did  A.  B.  expostulate  ?     Oh,  no  ! 

A.  B.  deposes  that  he  fulfilled  all  commissions  as  his 
power  served,  but  that  he  had  firmly  resolved  on  leaving 
New  York  to  forget  the  cod-liver  oil.  Fancy  his  surprise, 
therefore,  when  only  fifteen  miles  out,  a  brakeman  came 
with  a  package  that  had  been  left  with  him  for  me,  as  the 
train  was  pulling  out.  This  was  a  half-gallon  bottle  of 
that  medicine  which  was  to  his  mind  so  offensive  and 
disgusting.  The  lady  for  whom  it  was  intended  had, 
■  with  the  prudence  of  age,  despatched  her  order  in  a  letter 
to  Helmbold,  to  save  her  kind  friend  the  trouble  of  a 
journey  to  his  store. 


ON  COMMISSION. 


171 


I  have  set  down  my  case  as  judiciously  and  temperately 
as  I  can,  and  now  I  ask  what  I  am  to  do?  What 
is  any  man  to  do  who  is  in  a  position  similar  to 
mine? 


XVII. 


EVERYDAY   LIFE    ON   THE   RAIL. 


The  Railway  Telegraph  Service — The  Train  Despatcher — The  Six 
Spectres — Out  on  the  Line — The  Irishman's  Telegram — Bixbie's 
Customer — The  Loafer's  Seat — A  Negative  Bliss — The  Dot  and 
Dash — How  Operators  carry  them — Scene  at  a  Dinner-Table — 
The  Night-Operator's  Ruse — The  Superintendent  and  the  Opera- 
tor—An Incident — Telegraph  Gossip. 

jOW  that  trains  are  "  run "  by  telegraph  on  all 
our  prominent  railways,  only  the  most  experi- 
enced and  expert  operators  are  employed.  They 
must  be  "sound"  operators  and  sound  men  in 
every  instance.  A  visit  to  the  train-despatcher's  office 
at  any  railway  headquarters,  will  cause  one  to  wonder 
how  admirably  the  system  of  railway  telegraphy  operates. 
Here  are,  say,  half  a  dozen  of  the  oldest  and  most  ex- 
perienced of  operators,  giving  their  ears  to  the  "tick" 
and  their  eyes  to  the  card ;  watching  through  the  wires 
the  machinery  moving  in  all  directions  over  the  entire 
line,  with  a  firm  but  invisible  grasp  upon  each  train. 
The  "order"  that  requires  but  a  moment  in  transmission 
may  prevent  collision,  avoid  delay  and  confusion,  and 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  ^3 

save  life ;  while  the  ominous  tick  tells  of  the  position  of 
every  train,  and  conveys  to  the  superintendent  of  the 
road  the  tidings,  "  all  is  well  !  " 

These  six  spectres  are  enclosed  in  a  wooden  cage. 
You  peer  at  them  through  gratings,  and  wonder  when  they 
will  get  out.  You  make  signs  to  them,  but  they  are  busy 
with  more  important  signs ;  you  offer  tobacco,  but  they 
do  not  bite.  No  word  is  spoken,  and  there  is  no  noise  ; 
no  sound  save  the  irrepressible  dot  and  dash.  In  instant 
communication  with  the  whole  world,  they  have  no  word 
for  you.  If  you  give  them  ten  words,  they  look  up  the 
tariff,  but  they  must  be  unspoken.  The  telegraph  has  a 
silent  language  of  its  own,  current  only  with  the  battery 
that  supplies  the  breath,  and  the  magic  key  that  gives  it 
utterance.  Ignoring  space,  its  operators  seldom  meet 
except  in  the  city  offices  ;  and  it  may  be  said  that  they 
are  never  separated,  save  through  the  temporary  inter- 
position of  a  broken  wire,  a  storm,  or  ground  connec- 
tions. 

While  all  orders  for  the  running  of  trains  issue  from 
the  train-master's  office,  the  telegraphist  who  superin- 
tends their  transmission  is  really  the  responsible  agent. 
On  many  roads,  he  assumes  the  entire  responsibility, 
while  others  receive  both  the  credit  and  the  pay.  By 
constant  practice  and  close  observation,  he  acquires  a 
knowledge  of  the  road  and  the  capacity  of  its  machinery 
possessed  by  no  other  official  to  the  same  degree.  There 
are  two  "  sets "  of  telegraph  train  despatchers  at  head- 
quarters, one  for  day  and  the  other  for  night  duty. 
Night  and  day  operators  are  also  employed  at  all  junc- 
tions, meeting-places,  and  crossings.  The  day  despatch- 
es when  relieved  by  the  night  assistant,  is  glad  to  retire  in 
order  to  recuperate  for  the  next  day.     And  the  night  de- 


174 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


spatcher,  having  brought  his  trains  with  their  precious 
freight  through  dangerous  storms,  and  the  thousand  and 
one  unforeseen  difficulties  that  threaten  their  safe  transit, 
is  only  too  glad  to  be  relieved  from  the  strain.  Conviv- 
ial meetings  or  gatherings  for  social  intercourse  in  the 
language  of  the  outside  world,  are  as  rare  as  they  are 
dangerous.  If  the  despatcher  has  an  hour's  leisure,  he 
must  not  load  it  down  with  burdens  that  may  compromise 
either  his  brain  or  his  nerve.  He  is,  therefore,  a  person 
of  correct  and  exemplary  habits,  with  the  disposition  and 
proclivities  of  a  recluse.  He  never  forgets  that  an  un- 
steady hand  upon  the  key,  a  bewildered  brain,  or  con- 
fused faculties  might  damage  the  property  of  his  corpora- 
tion far  into  the  millions,  or  sacrifice  thousands  of  valu- 
able lives. 

His  office  wears  the  stillness  and  gloom  of  the  powder- 
house.  No  one  not  immediately  connected  with  his  de- 
partment of  the  service  is  permitted  to  cross  the  forbid- 
den threshold.  His  every  sign  is  obeyed  with  scrupulous 
exactness,  and  he  sends  out  his  dot  and  his  dash  as  though 
the  "message"  were  the  edict  of  a  king.  With  one  hand 
upon  the  key,  and  the  other  at  the  adjustment,  the  ear  is 
bent  to  note  the  slightest  change  in  the  "  tick,"  for  the 
burden  of  its  monotonous  whisper  is  safety  or  disaster. 
He  cannot  leave  it  for  a  moment,  and  you  may  be  sure  a 
laugh  or  joke  is  rarely  heard  in  the  prison-house  of  the 
despatcher. 

"  Out  on  the  line,"  however,  where  the  duties  are  less 
exacting,  the  railway  operator  is  frequently  found  sunning 
himself  on  the  platform,  always  within  hearing  distance 
of  his  instrument.  If  he  be  located  at  a  country  station, 
he  has  both  his  leisure  and  his  sport.  He  is  not  always 
the  verdant  person  that  he  may  seem  to  travelling  eyes. 


EVERYDAY  LIFE  ON  THE  RAIL. 


175 


He  may  be  fresh  from  some  large  city  office,  ripe  in  knowl- 
edge and  experience,  sent  down  to  the  country  to  supply 
some  temporary  vacancy.  He  is  always  ready  to  move, 
and  knowing  that  ability  in  his  profession  is  always  in 
demand,  he  is  not  particular  as  to  where  he  makes  his 
home.  You  meet  Mr.  Charlie  de  Forest  with  Zantzinger 
at  Mobile,  Alabama,  to-day,  and  next  month  he  is  work- 
ing the  Commercial  "  Circuit "  at  San  Francisco. 

Mr.  Frank  C.  Jones,  whom  you  left  at  the  lunch-room 
in  Savannah,  Georgia,  met  you,  in  a  fortnight,  on  the 
platform  at  Elmira,  New  York,  with  a  telegram  concern- 
ing your  luggage.  As  a  class,  they  were  at  one  time  the 
most  industrious  of  travellers,  but  since  the  business  has 
become  more  thoroughly  systematized,  and  the  pay  about 
the  same  in  all  parts  of  the  country,  there  is  less  disposi- 
tion on  the  part  of  telegraphists  to  wander  from  place  to 
place. 

The  railway  telegraphist,  in  the  pay  of  the  "  Company," 
is  not  eager  to  do  a  very  extensive  business  in  the  com- 
mercial line.  With  him,  this  is  rather  a  source  of  annoy- 
ance. It  necessitates  the  keeping  of  complicated  books, 
and  adds  but  little  to  the  railroad  salary.  He,  is  not 
always  as  polite  and  courteous  to  the  wayfarer  as  the 
travelling  public  have  a  right  to  expect. 

An  Irishman  went  into  the  depot  office  at  Parkersburg, 
and  directed  a  despatch  for  Baltimore.  After  watching 
the  operator  for  some  time,  he  modestly  asked  if  he 
would  soon  send  it.  He  replied  that  it  was  a  half  hour 
gone,  to  which  Pat  responded  : 

"  How  the  divil  can  it  be  half  an  hour  gone,  while 
there  it  is  hangin'  on  the  hook,  while  ye  were  clickin' 
and  fiddlin'  with  that  little  brass  play-toy  there  ?  " 

The  window  was  slammed  in  the  poor  man's  face. 


176 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


Another  Celtic  traveller  struck  Bixbie  of  the  Erie  at 
Elmira.     Bixbie  is  an  innocent  and  truthful  young  man. 

"  Do  yez  charge  enybody  for  the  eddress,  when  yez 
sind  a  bit  by  tillergraft  ?  " 

"  Never,"  replied  the  operator. 

"  Do  yez  charge  for  signin'  the  name  ?  " 

"  Never,  sir." 

"  Thin  sind  this,  and  my  brother  will  know  I  am  here  : 
4  To  James  O'Brien,  New  York.  Signed,  Michael 
O'Brien:  " 

The  operators  at  division  headquarters  on  the  C,  B. 
&  Q.  were  much  annoyed  by  loafers  who  gathered 
beneath  the  windows  on  the  outside.  A  box  running 
the  full  length  of  the  office  had  heretofore  furnished  a 
tempting  seat  for  the  habitues.  The  telegraphists  covered 
this  with  zinc  and  connected  it  with  the  batteries.  A 
person  sitting  on  the  box  without  touching  it  with  his 
hands  would  not  feel  the  electricity  ;  but  if  his  hands 
drop  on  the  box  or  he  puts  them  thereon  to  assist  him 
in  rising,  he  receives  such  a  sudden  and  astonishing 
shock  as  sends  him  an  unbelievable  number  of  feet 
towards  the  roof  or  the  adjacent  tracks.  Any  good  day 
a  person  may  see  some  of  these  unfortunates  unex- 
pectedly struck  with  this  domesticated  lightning,  de- 
scribing a  fifty-feet  parabola  in  the  air. 

Girls  have  recently  "  come  on,"  so  that  what  was  once 
a  "positive"  blessing  for  a  time  promised  to  become  a 
"negative"  bliss.  But  Woolsey  says,  "  It's  no  use  ;  they 
can't  do  it.  In  Baden,  the  Government  decided  to  em- 
ploy women  as  telegraphers.  All  went  well  enough  for 
a  while,  but  soon  they  began  to  talk  with  each  other 
about  parties,  beaux,  and  Dolly  Vardens,  and  kept  it  up 
at  such  a  rate,  that  their  clatter  monopolized  the  wire. 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  ijj 

The  Government  has  permitted  them  to  retire  to  private 
life." 

The  operator  always  carries  his  dot  and  dash  with  him. 
You  will  find  him  making  a  key  of  his  knife  at  the  table 
if  his  dinner  is  slow,  and  communicating  with  his  wife  in 
monosyllables,  which  he  learns  to  believe  save  both  time 
and  money.  It  is  the  ruling  passion  strong  in  death. 
When  a  comrade  was  summoned  to  the  death-bed  of 
poor  Phillips  at  New  Albany,  he  had  but  an  hour  or  two 
to  live. 

"  No  use,  boys,"  said  he ;  "no  battery — no  current — 
zinc  all  eaten  away,  and  no  time  to  galvanize.  Guess 
I'll  have  to  cut  off!" 

Bruch  says — "  Talking  about  fellows  carrying  the  dots 
and  dashes  with  them,  I  know  two  who  made  it  pay. 
They  left  the  Louisville  office,  and  went  down  the 
Mississippi  river  on  a  sporting  tour — playing  cards  for 
money.  They  managed  always  to  sit  opposite  each 
other,  and  conversed  freely  with  their  fingers  on  the 
table.  They  won  every  time,  and  being  apparently 
strangers,  the  trick  was  never  suspected." 

Charles  Temple,  of  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  Lines, 
tells  of  an  adventure  while  on  a  recent  visit  to  San  Fran- 
cisco. He  was  invited  to  dine  with  Swain  at  the  Occi- 
dental. While  at  the  table,  they  amused  themselves  by 
clicking  upon  their  plates  with  their  knife  or  spoon,  in 
the  language  well  known  to  telegraph  officials,  but  un- 
familiar to  other  people.  One  would  pick  up  his  knife 
and  convey  to  the  other  a  remark  like  this  : 

"  Why  is  this  butter  like  the  offence  of  Hamlet's  uncle  ?" 

"  I  give  it  up,"  replied  his  friend. 

"  Because,"  he  telegraphs,  "  it's  rank,  and  smells  to 
heaven ! " 

8* 


i78 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON   THE  RAIL. 


At  this  extraordinary  intimation  given  at  the  expense 
of  the  landlord,  who  sits  by  perfectly  unconscious  of  the 
joke,  the  other  is  overcome  with  laughter,  in  which  the 
first  joins,  while  all  wonder  what  may  be  the  cause  of 
their  merriment. 

A  newly-married  pair  sat  opposite  these  wags,  whom 
they  imagined  to  be  from  the  country.  The  young  lady, 
who  was  right  good-looking,  came  next  in  order,  as  the 
butt  of  their  telegraphic  hits. 

"What  a  lovely  little  pigeon  this  is  opposite,  isn't 
she?"  clicked  No.  i. 

"  Perfectly  charming,"  answered  No.  2  ;  "  looks  as  if 
butter  wouldn't  melt  in  her  mouth.  Just  married,  I 
guess.  If  that  country  fool  alongside  of  her  were  out  of 
the  way,  I  would  toss  her  a  crust  of  bread." 

"  Never  mind  him,"  replied  No.  1 ;  "give  her  a  nudge 
with  your  foot,  under  the  table." 

To  the  consternation  of  the  foolish  young  men,  the 
bridegroom  picked  up  his  knife,  and  on  his  empty  glass 
clicked  off  the  following  despatch — his  face  flushed,  and 
his  brow  set  in  a  very  determined  manner : 

"  This  lady  is  my  wife,  and  as  soon  as  she  finishes  her 
dinner,  I  propose  to  give  both  of  you  a  sound  thrash- 
ing." 

This  was  enough  to  bring  a  very  solemn  look  upon 
the  two  faces  opposite.  There  was  no  more  joking,  and 
no  appetite  for  the  remainder  of  the  meal.  The  offenders 
immediately  arose  and  slipped  out  of  the  way,  fearing  to 
encounter  the  bridegroom,  who  was  himself  an  expert 
telegraphist. 

"  I  was  night  operator,"  says  Wheeler,  "down  there  at 
Centralia  on  the  Branch,  for  awhile,  but  didn't  know  a 
soul  on  the  line.     Lewis  was  superintendent,  but  some- 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


179 


how  or  other  I  couldn't  even  get  acquainted  with  him. 
Yes,  my  name  is  Bob.  There  was  a  plug  at  Du  Quoin 
— a  boy,  I  supposed — who  went  for  me  the  very  first 
night.  There  wasn't  much  to  do  but  receive  reports  of 
trains,  and  the  rest  of  the  time  '  Dn '  *  and  I  fought  like 
cats,  though  a  good  many  miles  apart. 

"  It  went  on  that  way  night  after  night,  until  he  called 
me  a  name  I. couldn't  take.  I  replied  with  a  worse  one. 
Then  he  told  me  in  a  business-like  way,  that  he  would  be 
down  the  next  night  to  thrash  me.  Knowing  that  he 
couldn't  leave,  I  told  him  to  come  on — that  he  would 
never  get  back  alive. 

"Next  afternoon,  I  learned,  to  my  horror,  that  ' Dn' 
could  take  the  passenger,  run  down  to  Centralia,  remain 
twelve  minutes,  and  take  the  next  passenger  back.  The 
cheerful  information  also  reached  me,  that  '  D?i '  was  a 
grown  man,  stout,  and  well-proportioned ;  while  I  was  a 
light  fellow,  weighing  scarcely  a  hundred  pounds. 

"  We  had  a  day  operator,  named  Jones ;  he  used  to  be 
manager  of  a  New  Orleans  office  before  the  war,  and  had 
been  in  the  Confederate  army.  Good  friend  of  mine, 
and  I  knew  he  would  fight.  I  asked  him  what  he  was 
going  to  do  that  night.  He  said  he  was  going  to  play 
billiards,  up  in  the  club-room,  with  Joe  Cormick.  I  told 
him  I  expected  a.  friend  on  the  9.30  train,  and  would  like 
to  spend  an  hour  with  him,  if  he  would  stay  for  me  and 
watch  the  instruments.  He  said  certainly,  if  I  would 
come  up  and  remind  him.  Of  course,  I  reminded  him, 
ana  when  the  train  came  in  sight  he  was  seated  in  my 
chair,  taking  reports.  I  then  got  out  in  a  dark  place  and 
watched.     I  saw  a  strapping  big  fellow  go  into  the  office, 

*  "  Dn  " — the  telegraph  call  for  Du  Quoin. 


^O  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

and  I  went  round  to  the  other  entrance,  to  see  the  sport 
at  a  safe  distance. 

"By  the  time  I  got  there  the  fun  had  commenced. 
'I?n'  had  struck  the  '  night  operator'  over  the  head  with 
a  cane,  much  to  my  friend  Jones'  surprise  and  disgust. 
Then  Jones  let  him  have  a  heavy  paper-weight  right  in 
the  snoot,  which  scattered  him  some,  and  made  the  blood 
fly.  Then  Cormick  coming  in  on  some  errand,  saw  how 
the  game  was,  and  took  a  hand.  I  think  '  Dn '  was  the 
worst-licked  operator  I  ever  saw  !  Yes,  he  managed  to 
get  to  the  train,  and  resigned,  of  course,  the  next  day. 
The  best  of  it  all  was,  I  got  the  credit  of  trouncing 
him,  and  the  'night  operator  at  Centralia'  was  a  terror 
to  the  boys  on  that  line  for  some  time.  Joe  Cormick, 
who  was  a  popular  conductor,  as  well  as  an  estima- 
ble citizen,  was  afterwards  elected  Mayor  of  Centra- 
lia. 

"  I  resigned,  too,  and  went  on  a  line  where  they  were 
just  introducing  girls.  The  current  of  business  is  more 
refined  where  girls  are  employed  on  a  telegraph  line,  and 
there  is  less  danger  of  personal  collisions." 

Marcellus,  who  worked  at  the  next  table,  remarked, 
that  he  formerly  ran  a  telegraph  and  ticket  office  on  the 

same  road.     "  I  had  heard  that  Mr.  J s,  Sup't.  at  Am- 

boy,  was  a  common-looking  gentleman,  of  quiet  manners, 
rather  rough  exterior,  and  that  if  you  obeyed  rules  and 
orders  strictly,  you  could  get  on  with  him  well  enough. 
Well,  old  Keeler  gave  us  strict  orders  that  no  one  should 
be  allowed  in  the  ladies'  waiting-room,  after  the  trains 
had  passed  at  night.  Loafers  and  dead-beats  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  slipping  in  there  o'  winter  nights,  and 
sleeping  by  the  hot  stove.  Before  I  went  there  I  was 
told  some  thieves,  taking  advantage  of  this  looseness,  had 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  j8i 

made  a  raid  on  the  ticket-office  one  night — which  was  in 
the  same  room — and  the  old  man  had  to  make  good  the 
loss.  So  I  was  charged  to  enforce  this  '  order '  strictly, 
and,  if  necessary,  call  in  the  night  watchman  and  sta- 
tion baggage-man  to  my  assistance. 

"  Well,  the  depot  was  a  mile  from  any  hotel,  and  there 
was  no  gas  there  then.  One  night  we  had  a  fearful  acci- 
dent at  the  Long  Bridge  at  La  Salle.  Train  got  off  at 
the  steam  shovel ;  engine  and  cars ;  couldn't  get  it  on ; 
nothing  could  pass ;  regular  block.    Conductor  came  over 

to  telegraph  J s.     J s   answered,  would  '  come 

out  on  wrecking  engine.'  It  was  about  three  o'clock  in 
the  morning — dark  and  stormy — when  they  got  the  track 
nearly  cleared,  and  I  went  back  to  my  office  to  go  to  bed. 
Unlocked  the  door  of  ladies'  room ;  found  a  lamp  dimly 
burning,  and  a  man  doubled  up  in  one  of  the  seats,  sound 
asleep.  Went  out  again ;  hunted  up  night  watchman ; 
woke  up  baggage-man — both  strapping  big  Dutchmen — 
told  'em  to  draw  that  man  out  of  ladies'  room. 

"  '  He  say  he  vos  von  supertender,'  said  the  watchman 
'  so  I  make  him  in.' 

"  '  Superintendent !  that's  played  out — he's  over  at  the 
wreck,  if  he's  anywhere.  Come,  get  him  out — that's 
Keeler's  orders.' 

"  They  went  at  it,  and  when  they  got  him  half-way  out 
he  was  wide-awake. 

"  '  Where  is  Mr.  Keeler  ?  '  he  inquired. 

"  '  Gone  to  bed  long  ago,'  I  answered. 

"  'Where  is  the  operator  ?' 

"  '  I  am  here,  sir,  obeying  orders.' 

"  '  Don't  you  know,  sir,  that  I  am  Mr.  J s,  super- 
intendent of  this  division  ?  ' 

"  '  I  do  not,  sir.     Never  saw  you  before.     The  fact  of 


!82  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

it  is,  sir,  Mr.  Keeler's  order  does  not  permit  us  to  know 
anybody.     Have  you  a  pass,  sir  ?  ' 

"  '  Pass  for  what  ?  ' 

"  '  Pass  to  sleep  in  the  ladies'  room  ! ' 

"  '  No,  sir,  I  do  not—' 

"  'Well,  sir,  then  you'll  have  to  pass  out.  It's  a  very 
old  joke  indeed,  sir.' 

"  '  I  tell  you  I  am  the  superintendent  I " 

"  '  Can't  help  it,  sir,  if  you  were  the  President;  Keeler's 
orders  must  be  obeyed.     Go  on,  boys.' 

"  And  they  went  on. 

"  Nine  o'clock,  I  think  it  was,  same  morning,  they 
woke  me  up  to  send  important  message.  Opened  office ; 
few  minutes  in  came  party  of  the  night  before. 

"  '  Morning,  sir,'  I  said. 

"  'Good-morning,'  dryly. 

"  '  Where  did  you  sleep  last  night  ?' 

"  '  Partly  in  the  ladies'  room,  partly  in  passenger  coach. 
Give  me  a  blank.' 

"  Gave  him  blank,  and  he  wrote  the  following  : 

"«J.  R.— Ambov: 

•"Track  clear;  leave  in  twenty  minutes.     The  operator 
here  is  all  right. 

"'John  C.  J s.' 

"  Here  was  a  go,  sure  enough.  I  tried  to  explain,  but 
he  took  me  by  the  hand  and  said  : 

"  '  Young  man,  you  are  somewhat  impulsive  and  pro- 
fane, but  you've  got  the  right  idea  about  orders' 

"Then  he  was  off!  Bless  his  old  soul,  I  would  walk 
fifty  miles  to  shake  that  hand  again.  He  is  still  superin- 
tendent of  the  two  divisions  at  Amboy  j  beloved  by  his 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  i^ 

employes,  and  endeared  to  them  by  a  thousand  deeds 
of  kindness." 

Hunter,  of  the  Western  Union  Lines,  relates  the  follow- 
ing incident  concerning  the  early  days  of  telegraphing, 
and  the  incredulity  with  which  the  first  feats  of  that  art 
were  received  by  the  public. 

"  The  first  telegraphic  lines  in  this  country  were  laid 
early  in  1844,  between  Washington  and  Baltimore,  after 
a  long  struggle  with  Congress  for  a  $30,000  subsidy, 
which  was  finally  granted.  Among  the  first  messages  sent 
was  an  announcement  of  the  nomination  of  James  K. 
Polk  by  the  Democratic  Convention  sitting  in  Baltimore. 
During  the  campaign  of  1844  the  establishment  of  this 
'  great  line ' — thirty-nine  miles  long — '  connecting  Balti- 
more and  the  national  capital  with  electric  wires,'  was 
largely  dwelt  upon  by  the  stump  orators  of  both  sides. 
The  Hon.  James  J.  Farran,  at  present  one  of  the  proprie- 
tors of  the  Cincinnati  Enquirer,  and  at  that  time,  I  be- 
lieve, a  candidate  for  Congress,  made  a  speech  in  Cin- 
cinnati, one  night,  in  which  he  related  as  one  of  the  mar- 
vels of  the  age  that  Polk's  nomination  was  known  in 
Washington  within  half  an  hour  after  it  had  been  made. 
He  was  loudly  applauded  for  this ;  but  there  was  one 
man  in  the  crowd,  and  it  was  no  less  a  person  than  Mr. 
Washington  McLean — then  as  now  a  prominent  politician 
— who  could  not  believe  it.  On  the  contrary,  he  jumped 
up  and  cried  out :  '  Jim  Farran,  you're  the  biggest  liar  I 
ever  heard.  You  know  very  well  that  ain't  so.  It  would 
take  that  long  to  copy  off  the  message,  let  alone  to  send 
it  forty  miles  on  a  wire.' " 

As  our  best-informed  telegraphists  are  in  doubt  as  to 
whom  should  be  awarded  the  chief  honor  of  giving  the 
magnetic  telegraph  to  the  world,  the  author  goes  out  of 


j84         everyday  life  on  the  rail. 

his  way  to  record  here  a  few  observations  that  may  help 
to  correct  a  popular  error.  The  following  curious  pas- 
sage occurs  in  one  of  Addison's  essays,  published  in  No. 
241  of  the  first  volume  of  the  Spectator : 

"  Strada,  in  one  of  his  Prolusions,  gives  an  account  of 
a  chimerical  correspondence  between  two  friends  by  the 
help  of  a  certain  loadstone,  which  had  such  virtue  in  it, 
that  if  it  touched  two  sewing  needles,  when  one  of  the 
needles  so  touched  began  to  move,  the  other,  though  at 
ever  so  great  a  distance,  moved  at  the  same  time,  and  in 
the  same  manner.  He  tells  us,  that  the  two  friends, 
being  each  of  them  possessed  of  one  of  these  needles, 
made  a  kind  of  dial-plate,  inscribed  with  the  four-and- 
twenty  letters  in  the  same  manner  as  the  hours  of  the 
day  are  marked  upon  the  ordinary  dial-plate.  They  then 
fixed  one  of  the  needles  on  each  of  these  plates  in 
such  a  manner  that  it  could  move  around  without  im- 
pediment, so  as  to  touch  any  of  the  four-and-twenty  let- 
ters. Upon  their  separating  from  one  another  into  dis- 
tant countries,  they  agreed  to  withdraw  themselves  punc- 
tually into  their  closets  at  a  certain  hour  of  the  day,  and 
converse  with  one  another  by  this  their  invention.  Ac- 
cordingly when  they  were  some  hundred  miles  asunder, 
each  of  them  shut  himself  up  in  his  closet  at  the  time 
appointed,  and  immediately  each  cast  his  eye  upon  his 
dial-plate.  If  he  had  a  mind  to  write  anything  to  his 
friend,  he  directed  his  needle  to  every  letter  that  formed 
the  words  he  had  occasion  for,  making  a  little  pause  at 
the  end  of  every  word  or  sentence,  to  avoid  confusion. 
The  friend  in  the  meanwhile  saw  his  own  sympathetic 
needle  moving  of  itself  to  every  letter  which  that  of  his 
correspondent  pointed  at.  By  this  means  they  talked 
together  across  a  whole  continent,  and  conveyed  thoughts 
to  one  another  in  an  instant  over  cities  or  mountains, 
seas  or  deserts." 

This  was  written  on  the  6th  of  December,  1781, 
nearly  a  hundred  years   ago,  long  before  modern  tele- 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


185 


graphy  was  thought  of.  May  not  this  passage  have  sug- 
gested to  Prof.  Morse  the  grand  idea  which  he  turned  to 
such  excellent  practical  account  ? 

Discoveries  rendering  the  electro-magnetic  telegraph 
possible  were  made  by  Oersted  of  Copenhagen,  in  the 
year  181 9;  others  were  made  by  Arago,  and  Davy,  and 
Ampere,  in  1820,  and  by  Sturgeon,  in  1825.  None  of 
them,  however,  reached  the  point  of  discovering  a  means 
of  making  the  wire  practically  serviceable  over  any  con- 
siderable distance.  The  difficulty  was  deemed  insuper- 
able, and  Mr.  Barlow,  of  the  Royal  Military  Academy  of 
Woolwich,  England,  in  his  investigations,  published  in 
1825,  declared  adversely  upon  the  possibility  of  a  tele- 
graph. Nothing  feasible  in  the  way  of  discovery  was 
made  for  two  or  three  years  after,  though  it  seems  to  be 
established  that  Harrison  Gray  Dyar,  an  American,  put 
a  short  working  line  of  telegraph  in  operation  on  Long 
Island,  in  1827  or  1828.  He  used  common  electricity  and 
not  electro-magnetism,  and  but  one  wire,  which  operated 
with  a  spark,  that  left  red  marks  upon  paper,  chemically 
prepared.  The  device  of  working  it  by  an  alphabet,  by 
spaces  of  time  between  sparks,  was  very  nearly  in  principle 
that  used  by  Prof.  Morse ;  and  it  is  noted  as  another 
curious  coincidence,  that  Morse  was  the  brother-in-law  of 
Charles  Walker,  who  was  the  legal  counsel  of  Dyar,  at  the 
time  of  Dyar's  experiments  on  the  electric  telegraph.  Dyar 
asserts  that  Morse,  who  was  not  a  man  of  any  scientific 
attainments,  got  his  ideas  of  operating  a  wire  telegraph 
from  his  (Morse's)  brother-in-law,  the  latter  having  de- 
rived them  from  him,  while  acting  as  his  counsel  years 
before.  However,  this  question  only  affects  the  validity 
of  Morse's  claim  to  the  invention  of  the  mode  of  working 
the  telegraph. 


X86        everyday  life  on  the  rail. 

The  great  difficulty  in  the  way  of  operating  the  wire  at 
any  distance  had  not  been  met  until  Prof.  Henry  made 
discovery  of  the  fact,  in  1828,  that  a  galvanic  current 
could  be  transmitted  to  a  great  distance  with  so  small  a 
diminution  of  force  as  to  produce  mechanical  effects, 
adequate  to  the  desired  object,  by  means  of  a  galvanic 
intensity  battery.  Prof.  Morse  subsequently  availed 
himself  of  the  discovery  by  Prof.  Henry,  to  make  tele- 
graphy practicable,  and  profitable  to  himself.  Prof. 
Henry,  who  took  out  no  patent  for  his  discovery,  seems 
in  this,  as  in  his  other  invaluable  scientific  labors,  to 
have  sought  for  no  other  reward  "  than  the  consciousness 
of  advancing  science,  the  pleasure  of  discovering  new 
truths,  and  the  scientific  reputation  to  which  those  labors 
would  entitle  him." 

Up  to  1848,  Morse  seems  to  have  fully  conceded  that 
he  was  indebted  to  the  discovery  of  Prof.  Henry  to  ena- 
ble him  to  make  the  magnetic  telegraph  successful.  At 
that  time,  Morse  got  into  litigation  with  other  parties 
over  his  claim  to  the  monopoly  of  telegraphic  rights,  and 
he  appears  to  have  deemed  it  necessary  to  his  interest  to 
depreciate  the  importance  of  Henry's  discoveries.  The 
concurrent  testimony,  however,  of  leading  telegraphic 
authorities,  and  of  the  very  men  who  were  associated 
with  Morse,  in  telegraphic  patents,  go  to  show,  that  he 
merely  availed  himself  of  Henry's  discoveries  and  ap- 
plied them  to  his  machine.  It  does  not  appear  that 
Morse  ever  made  a  single  original  discovery  in  electricity, 
magnetism,  or  electro-magnetism,  applicable  to  the  in- 
vention of  the  Telegraph. 

Mr.  F.  Ives  Scudamore,  Superintendent  of  the  Gov- 
ernment telegraphs  in  Great  Britain,  relates  an  incident 
in  his  recent  report  upon  the  success  of  the  system  of 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL.  ^7 

employing  male  and  female  operatives.  After  showing 
how  much  the  tone  of  the  man  has  been  elevated  by 
the  association,  and  how  well  the  women  perform  the 
"  checking"  or  "  fault-finding  "  branches  of  the  work,  the 
gentleman  goes  on  to  speak  of  the  friendships  formed 
between  operators,  or  "  clerks " — as  they  are  termed 
abroad — at  either  end  of  a  telegraph  wire.  They  begin 
by  chatting  in  the  intervals  of  their  work,  and  very  soon 
become  fast  friends.  A  telegraph  operator  at  London, 
who  was  engaged  on  a  wire  to  Berlin,  formed  an  ac- 
quaintance with  a  female  operator,  who  worked  on  the 
same  wire  in  Berlin.  This  developed  into  a  warm  at- 
tachment, and  without  having  seen  her,  made  a  propo- 
sal of  marriage,  and  was  accepted.  They  were  married, 
and  the  marriage  resulting  from  their  electric  affinities  is 
supposed  to  have  turned  out  as  well  as  those  in  which 
the  senses  are  more  apparently  concerned. 

Affairs  of  this  kind  are  not  uncommon  in  this  country, 
though  the  employment  of  females  as  operators  is  the 
exception  rather  than  the  rule.  Operators  are  not  rash ; 
there  is  something  in  the  very  nature  of  their  work  that 
makes  them  the  coolest  of  men.  They  do  not  marry 
without  due  acquaintance.  An  operator  at  one  end  of 
the  wire  can  readily  tell  by  the  way  in  which  the  opera- 
tor at  the  other  does  his  work,  whether  he  is  passionate 
or  sulky,  cheerful  or  dull,  ill-natured  or  good-natured, 
sanguine  or  phlegmatic. 


The  progress  of  the  electric  telegraph  within  the  past 
six  years,  has  been  very  great  in  every  quarter  of  the 
globe.     Upon   this  continent,  the  electric  wire  extends 


!88  EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 

from  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and 
from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  Ocean.  Three  cables 
span  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  connecting  America  with 
Europe,  and  another  submerged  in  the  Gulf  Stream, 
unites  us  with  the  Queen  of  the  Antilles.  Unbroken 
telegraphic  communication  exists  between  all  places  in 
America  and  all  parts  of  Europe ;  with  Tripoli  and  Al- 
giers in  Africa,  Cairo  in  Egypt,  Teheran  in  Persia,  Jeru- 
salem in  Syria,  Bagdad  and  Nineveh  in  Asiatic  Turkey, 
Bombay,  Calcutta,  and  other  important  cities  in  India, 
with  Hong  Kong  and  Shanghai  in  China,  Irkoutsk,  the 
capital  of  Eastern  Siberia,  Kiakhta  on  the  borders  of 
China,  Nangasaki  in  Japan. 

A  direct  line  of  telegraph,  under  one  direct  control 
and  management,  has  recently  been  established  between 
London  and  India,  with  extensions  to  Singapore,  Hong 
Kong,  Java,  and  Australia. 

Europe  possesses  450,000  miles  of  telegraphic  wire 
and  13,000  stations  ;  America,  180,000  miles  of  wire  and 
6,000  stations ;  India,  14,000  miles  of  wire  and  200  sta- 
tions ;  and  Australia,  10,000  miles  of  wire  and  270  sta- 
tions ;  and  the  extension  throughout  the  world  is  now  at 
the  rate  of  100,000  miles  of  wire  per  annum.  There  are, 
in  addition,  30,000  miles  of  submarine  telegraph  wire 
now  in  successful  operation,  extending  beneath  the  At- 
lantic and  German  oceans  ;  the  Baltic,  North,  Mediter- 
ranean, Red,  Arabian,  Japan,  and  China  seas ;  the  Per- 
sian Gulf,  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  the  Strait  of  Gibraltar,  and 
the  Gulfs  of  Mexico  and  St.  Lawrence. 

More  than  twenty  thousand  cities  and  villages  are  now 
linked  in  one  continuous  chain  of  telegraph  stations. 
The  mysterious  wire,  with  its  subtle  and  invisible  influ- 
ence, traverses  all  civilized  lands ;  passes  beneath  oceans, 


EVERYDAY  LIFE   ON  THE  RAIL. 


189 


seas,  and  rivers,  bearing  messages  of  business,  friend- 
ship, and  love ;  and  constantly  but  powerfully  contribut- 
ing to  the  peace,  happiness,  and  prosperity  of  all  man- 
kind. 


XVIII 


"  COME    HOME  I  " 


A  teuegraphist's  story. 


ON'T  fret,  Mag,  for  the  short  time  I  shall  be 
away,"  I  said  to  my  little  wife,  as  I  put  on  my 
gloves  and  great-coat. 

"Couldn't  you  stay  at  home  just  this  one 
night,  Will  ?  Do  you  know  I  felt  so  lonely  and  strange 
last  night  when  you  were  away,  and  to-night  I  can 
scarcely  bear  the  thought  of  your  being  absent  so  long  ! " 
She  looked  up  to  my  face  with  an  anxious  gaze,  and  a 
tear  stood  glistening  in  the  corners  of  her  sweet  blue 
eyes. 

"Why,  you  little  goose,"  said  I,  kissing  away  the 
bright  tokens  of  her  earnestness,  "  why  should  you  feel 
alarmed ;  do  I  not  go  every  night  to  see  that  everything 
is  '  O.  K.'  on  the  line  ?  I  shall  be  at  home  by  seven 
o'clock  at  the  latest,  and  if  you  are  really  afraid  to  stay 
in  the  house  alone,  I  will  send  up  my  brother  Bob  to 
keep  you  company." 

"  No ;  don't  do  that ;  it  would  look  foolish,  and  Bob 
would  only  laugh  at  me  when  he  came.     He  does  not 


"COME  ffOMEPi 


IQI 


understand  me.  I  think  no  one  understands  me — except 
you,  dear  Will." 

"  Thank  you,  Mag ;  I  think  I  understand  you.  There 
is  nothing  to  fear  here  in  Cottage  Grove,  where  the  whole 
village  is  ready  to  come  at  your  call.  Here  are  the  street 
cars,  so  good-by,  and  don't  fret." 

I  was  off,  but  my  wife  lingered  by  the  porch,  following 
me  with  her  eyes  ;  and  so  long  as  the  house  was  in  sight 
I  could  look  back  and  see  her  white  dress  shimmering, 
ghost-like,  in  the  light  which  streamed  through  the  open 
door. 

I  was  telegraph  superintendent  of  the — well,  we  will 
call  it  the  Wellington  Railway.  The  trains  were  run  en- 
tirely by  telegraph ;  and  our  despatcher  having  been  taken 
suddenly  ill,  we  had  put  a  skilful  operator  in  his  place, 
who  sometimes  yielded  to  a  desire  for  grog.  I  thought 
it  best  therefore  to  be  near  at  hand  in  case  anything 
should  go  wrong.  I  had  been  married  but  a  few  months, 
and  was  by  no  means  reconciled  to  the  necessity  of  leav- 
ing my  wife  home  to  pass  the  night  in  "  that  nasty  old 
box,"  as  Mag  sometimes  called  my  office.  My  dead  father 
had  left  me  the  home-place  at  Cottage  Grove,  a  village 
connected  with  the  metropolis  by  a  street  railway. 

A  short  ride  brought  me  to  my  post.  There  was  noth- 
ing extraordinary  in  the  duty  to  which  I  had  been 
called  away,  nor  was  it  any  new  experience  to  me ; 
but  on  that  night  my  mind  was  filled  with  vague,  indefin- 
able fears,  for  which  I  tried  in  vain  to  account.  The 
night  was  clear,  and  away  in  the  north-western  sky  the 
aurora  borealis  was  flitting  to  and  fro  in  a  thousand  strange 
fantastic  shapes.  On  entering  the  office,  the  night  op- 
erator whom  I  had  come  to  relieve  was  ready  to  depart. 

"  No  use  for  two  of  us  to-night,  sir,"  said  he  ;  "a  foreign 


192 


VCOME  HOME!' 


current  has  possession  of  the  instruments,  and  not  an  office 
has  '  called '  for  the  last  hour.     Good-night ! " 

When  I  was  left  alone,  I  found  it  was  as  he  had  said. 
The  electric  currents  which  are  developed  in  the  atmos- 
phere during  most  meteorological  changes,  had  rendered 
the  wires  quite  useless  for  the  time.  Seeing  that  my 
office  was  likely  to  be  a  sinecure,  I  drew  my  chair  to  the 
stove,  and  taking  down  a  book,  tried  to  interest  myself 
in  the  story.  The  volume  which  I  had  discovered  was 
"  Jane  Eyre,"  but  it  had  no  power  to  quiet  my  wild,  wan- 
dering thoughts.  While  I  was  turning  over  the  leaves, 
the  stillness  was  startled  by  the  sharp,  quick  click  of  one 
of  my  "  sounders,"  as  though  some  one  was  attempting  to 
"  call."  With  a  shiver  of  alarm  I  turned  quickly  to  the 
adjustment,  but  soon  perceived  that  the  dot  and  dash  had 
been  sounded  by  no  earthly  power,  and  I  knew  that  it 
had  been  produced  by  a  current  of  atmospheric  electricity 
acting  upon  the  wires. 

Smiling  at  the  nervousness  which  caused  me  to  start  at 
so  ordinary  an  occurrence,  I  turned  from  my  desk,  and 
again  sat  down  by  the  fire.  But  smile  as  I  would,  and 
reason  as  I  might,  I  felt  that  I  was  fast  succumbing  to 
vague,  foundationless  fears.  Thinking  that  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  room,  which  I  felt  close  and  hot,  might  have 
something  to  do  with  my  peculiar  condition  of  mind,  I 
flung  open  the  door,  and  stepped  outside  in  the  hope 
that  the  cool  air  might  scare  away  the  phantoms  of  my 
brain.  As  I  crossed  the  threshold,  the  midnight  express 
crashed  past  with  a  speed  and  force  which  shook  every 
timber  of  the  building,  and  uttering  a  loud  shriek,  disap- 
peared into  the  tunnel  at  the  end  of  the  steep  gradient,  on 
the  summit  of  which  my  station  was  placed.  When  it  had 
gone,  there  was  stillness,  stillness  broken — if  I  can  call 


"COME  HOME!" 


193 


it  broken — only  by  the  peculiar  sighing  of  the  air  passing 
along  the  wires,  which  is  heard  even  in  the  calmest  of 
nights.  I  stood  and  listened  to  the  strange,  melancholy, 
^Eolian-harp-like  sound,  now  so  faint  as  to  be  almost  in- 
audible, and  anon  swelling  into  a  wild  low  wailing.  I 
looked  up  and  saw  Orion  and  the  Pleiades,  and  thought 
how  often  on  nights,  not  long  ago,  when  I  had  watched 
for  Maggie  in  the  wood,  I  had  gazed  up  through  the  tall 
sombre  pines  and  watched  their  trembling  fires.  From 
that  my  mind  reverted  to  the  earnestness  with  which  my 
wife  had  asked  me  to  remain  at  home  that  night,  and  the 
unusual  pensiveness  of  her  manner  when  she  bade  me 
good-by.  What  could  be  the  meaning  of  it  all  ?  As  a 
general  rule,  I  had  a  most  profound  disbelief  in  omens, 
presentiments,  and  all  sorts  of  superstition ;  but  in  spite 
of  it,  I  felt  that  I  would  have  given  a  good  deal,  at  that 
time,  to  be  transported  just  for  one  minute  to  my  home, 
to  see  whether  all  was  well  there.  The  express  had 
passed,  the  trains  were  all  hurrying  "  on  time  "  to  their 
connections,  and  it  was  not  probable  that  any  "  orders" 
would  be  sent  or  received.  So,  I  might  have  called  up 
Gordon,  my  assistant,  who  lodged  near  by,  but  as  I  could 
give  no  good  reason  for  going  away,  I  resolved  to  stay 
where  I  was,  and  get  through  the  night  as  best  I  could. 
I  turned  inside  again,  and  poked  up  the  coals  with  rather 
more  noise  and  vigor  than  was  necessary.  I  filled  my 
pipe  and  lit  it,  but  the  weed  had  lost  its  tranquillizing 
power.  As  the  wreaths  curled  upward,  I  saw  my  wife's 
face,  looking  at  me  tearfully  as  when  I  had  left  her.  Again 
one  of  the  instruments  clicked  sharply,  but  as  before, 
with  no  intelligible  sound.  I  leaned  my  elbows  on  the 
desk,  and  with  head  between  my  hands,  watched  the 
armiture  as  a  cat  watches  a  mouse. 
0 


194 


"COME  HOME!" 


An  hour  might  have  passed  thus,  when  I  was  again 
startled  by  the  instrument's  nervous  dot  and  dash.  This 
time  it  was  louder  and  more  urgent,  and  it  seemed  to 
me,  though  I  may  err  here,  with  a  peculiar  unearthly 
sound,  such  as  I  had  never  heard  before.  I  am  utterly 
unable  to  tell  in  what  manner  the  impression  was  pro- 
duced, but  it  seemed  as  if  there  mingled  with  the  metallic 
click  the  tone  of  a  human  voice — the  voice  of  one  I 
knew.  The  armiture  began  to  move  more  regularly 
now,  and  to  make  sounds  that  my  practised  ear  under- 
stood. Slowly  came  two  dots,  a  space  and  a  dot,  as  if 
some  novice  were  working  the  instrument,  and  then  the 
letters  "C — o — m — e"  were  signalled.  No  sooner  had 
I  read  off  the  final  "e,"  than  to  my  amazement  and  ter- 
ror I  saw  the  "key"  move  as  if  touched  by  some  invis- 
ible hand,  and  the  signal  "  O.  K."  was  made,  which  the 
receiver  always  transmits  at  the  end  of  a  message. 

A  cold  thrill  ran  through  me,  and  I  felt  as  if  every 
drop  of  blood  were  leaving  my  heart.  Could  I  have 
been  the  subject  of  an  optical  delusion  ?  I  knew  that 
such  was  not  the  case,  for  I  had  plainly  heard  the  click 
of  the  "sounder,"  and  saw  the  armiture  move  in  obedience 
to  the  current  that  made  the  sound.  And  now  I  could 
perceive  that  another  word  was  being  slowly  spelt  out. 
But  so  bewildered  and  terrified  was  I,  that  I  failed  to 
catch  the  sounds.  With  an  overwhelming  feeling  of  awe, 
I  watched  the  lever  intently  while  the  letters  were  again 
signalled,  and  this  time  I  read  "  H—o — m — e."  I  stood 
petrified  with  fear  and  amazement,  half  believing  that  I  was 
in  a  dream,  for  reason  refused  to  accept  the  evidence  of 
sense.  Could  that  be  a  message  for  me  ?  If  so,  whence 
came  it  ?  What  hand  had  sent  it  ?  Could  it  be  that 
some  power  higher  than  that  of  nature  thus  warned  me 


"COME   HOME!" 


195 


of  impending  danger?  Should  I  obey  the  mysterious 
summons  ? 

Deliberating  thus,  the  instrument  again  sounded,  with 
a  clangor  seemingly  imperious  and  unearthly.  After  a 
few  uncertain  movements,  the  words  "Come  home — 
come  home — "  reached  my  practised  ear  with  unerring 
distinctness.  I  could  remain  at  my  post  no  longer. 
Come  what  might,  I  felt  that  I  had  no  alternative  but  to 
obey.  I  ran  to  the  house  where  my  assistant  lodged,  and 
on  rousing  the  inmates  and  gaining  admission,  told  him  he 
must  take  my  place  immediately,  as  I  had  been  called 
suddenly  away.  The  man  seemed  somewhat  surprised 
at  my  excited  and  startled  manner,  but  what  he  said  or 
did,  I  cannot  recollect.  I  rushed  to  the  barn  where  a 
horse  was  stalled,  and  perceiving  a  saddle  hanging  on 
the  wall,  threw  it  on  his  back,  and  in  a  moment  or  two 
was  dashing  along  the  road  in  the  direction  of  home.  I 
shall  never  forget  that  ride.  Although  I  urged  my  horse 
with  whip  and  voice,  until  he  flew  rather  than  galloped, 
the  pace  was  far  too  slow  for  my  excited  mind.  At  last, 
breathless  and  panting,  we  clattered  up  the  street  of  the 
village  near  which  I  lived.  Suddenly  a  horse  and  rider 
appeared  at  the  other  end  of  the  street,  and  a  hoarse 
voice  uttered  a  loud  cry  of  "  Fire  /  "  At  the  same  in- 
stant, the  church  bell  was  rung  violently,  and  at  once,  as 
if  by  a  common  impulse,  the  whole  village  started  into 
life.  Lights  appeared  in  the  houses,  and  an  hundred 
windows  were  dashed  quickly  up.  I  saw  white  figures 
standing  at  these  windows,  and  heard  nervous  voices  cry 
— "  Where?"  Checking  my  horse  with  a  jerk  which 
threw  him  on  his  haunches,  I  listened  for  the  reply : 
"  The  Woolsey  House." 

Great  Heaven  !  my  worst  fears  were  realized.     It  was 


196 


"COME  HOME!" 


my  own  home.  I  choked  down  the  agony,  which  almost 
forced  a  cry,  and  pressing  onward  with  redoubled  speed, 
soon  arrived  at  the  scene  of  the  fire.  The  house  was  a 
large  old  one,  and  when  I  reached  it,  smoke  was  issuing 
in  thick,  murky  volumes  from  the  windows  of  the  second 
flat,  while  fierce  tongues  of  flame  were  already  leaping 
along  the  roof.  A  crowd  of  men  were  hurrying  confused- 
ly about  with  buckets  and  pails  of  water.  In  the  centre 
of  a  group  of  women,  I  found  our  maid,  Mary,  stretched 
on  the  grass  in  a  swoon.  "  My  wife  ! "  I  exclaimed;  as 
I  rushed  forward,  "  where  is  she  ?  "  "  God  knows,  sir," 
said  one  of  the  men  ;  "  we  have  twice  tried  to  reach  the 
second  flat,  but  were  each  time  driven  back  by  the 
smoke  and  fire."  Without  uttering  a  word,  I  entered 
the  house,  and  ran  along  the  lobby.  The  stair,  fortu- 
nately, was  built  of  stone,  but  the  wood-work  on  each  side 
was  one  mass  of  blazing  and  crackling  flame.  Before 
I  had  taken  three  steps,  I  fell  back,  blinded,  fainting,  and 
half- suffocated  with  the  smoke.  Two  men  who  had  fol- 
lowed me  caught  me  in  their  arms,  and  tried  to  restrain 
me  by  force  from  endeavoring  to  ascend  again.  "  Don't 
attempt  it,"  they  said ;  "  you  will  only  lose  your  own  life 
and  can't  save  hers."  "  Let  go,  you  cowards  !"  I  cried, 
as  soon  as  I  could  speak ;  and  with  the  strength  of  mad- 
ness dashed  them  aside.  I  rushed  upstairs,  and  this 
time  succeeded  in  reaching  the  first  landing  in  safety. 
The  room  which  we  used  as  our  bedchamber  led  off  a 
small  parlor  which  was  situated  on  this  flat.  Groping 
my  way  through  the  smoke,  I  found  the  door,  but  to  my 
horror,  it  was  locked !  I  dashed  myself  against  it  again 
and  again,  but  it  resisted  all  my  efforts.  To  return  as  I 
had  come  was  now  impossible,  and  I  knew  that  the  only 
hope  of  saving  even  my  own  life  was  to  go  forward.     De- 


"COME  HOME  I" 


197 


spair  gave  me  strength ;  and  lifting  my  foot  I  struck  it 
violently  against  one  of  the  lower  panels  of  the  door.  It 
yielded  a  little.  Another  blow,  and  it  was  driven  in.  I 
crept  through  the  opening,  but  so  thick  was  the  smoke  in 
the  parlor  that  I  could  distinguish  nothing.  "  Maggie, 
Maggie  ! "  I  shrieked,  "  where  are  you  ?  "  but  no  answer 
was  returned.  Crossing  the  parlor  I  gained  our  bed- 
room door.  To  my  joy  it  was  open,  and  stretched  on 
the  floor  I  found  the  apparently  lifeless  form  of  my  wife. 
I  bent  Over  her,  and  on  placing  my  hand  on  her  heart,  I 
found  that  it  was  still  beating.  I  lifted  her  very  tenderly 
and  gently,  and  carried  her  in  my  arms  to  the  window, 
which  I  broke  open.  Of  what  followed  I  am  only  dimly 
conscious;  I  have  a  confused  remembrance  of  men 
bringing  a  ladder,  and  strong  arms  helping  us  down,  and 
the  people  cheering ;  but  it  is  all  very  vague  and  indis- 
tinct. My  next  recollection  is  that  of  finding  myself  in  a 
neighbor's  house  all  bruised  and  weak,  but  with  my  own 
wife  bending  over  me,  and  administering  to  my  wants 
with  loving  hands. 

On  the  evening  of  the  next  day,  when  the  short  win- 
ter twilight  was  fast  closing  round,  and  the  first  snow- 
flakes  were  falling,  I  lay  thinking  over  the  strange  events 
which  I  have  tried  to  relate.  Maggie  drew  a  little  stool 
close  to  the  couch.  I  had  not  mentioned  a  word  to  any- 
body concerning  the  warning  which  I  had  so  mysteriously 
received.  When  questioned  as  to  what  caused  me  to  return 
so  opportunely,  I  had  always  made  some  evasive  answer. 
I  feared  the  reality  would  never  have  obtained  belief. 

"  Willie,"  said  the  soft  low  voice  of  my  wife,  "  if  you 
had  not  come  home — " 

"  Hush,  my  darling.  Don't  talk  like  that,  for  I  can't 
bear  even  to  think  of  it." 


I98  "COME  HOME!" 

"  But  it  might  have  been.  And  do  you  know,  Willie, 
I  had  such  a  strange  dream  on  that  awful  night  ?  " 

"  A  dream,  Maggie  ?     Tell  me  what  it  was." 

"You  remember,"  said  she,  drawing  closer  to  me, 
"  the  evening  you  took  Mary  and  me  into  the  telegraph 
office,  and  told  us  all  about  the  batteries,  and  magnets, 
and  electricity,  and  a  great  many  things  which  we  couldn't 
understand  at  all,  though  we  pretended  to  do  so,  lest  you 
should  think  us  stupid  ?  " 

"  Perfectly." 

"  And  you  remember  how  I  wanted  to  send  a  message 
with  my  own  hands,  and  you  threw  the  instruments  into 
what  you  called  '  short  circuit '  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"You  made  me  take  hold  of  the  'key,'  and  then  you 
guided  it  while  I  sent  a  message  to  your  brother  Robert, 
who  was  in  the  office  at  Centralia.  And  the  end  of  it 
was — '  Come  home — come  home  ! '  which  I  repeated 
over  and  over  until  I  could  do  it  quite  well  without  your 
help?" 

I  turned  quickly  around,  but  she  was  gazing  intently 
at  the  fire,  and  did  not  perceive  the  startled  look  I  gave 
her. 

"  Well,"  she  continued,  "  the  night  before  last,  when 
you  were  away,  I  could  not  sleep  for  a  long  time  after  I 
went  to  bed ;  and  when  I  did  sleep,  I  dreamed  such  a 
horrible  dream.  I  thought  I  was  in  your  office  again, 
and  had  hurried  there  because  I  was  afraid  of  some  Ter- 
rible Thing.  I  did  not  know  what  it  was,  but  it  was 
close  behind  me,  and  I  thought  nobody  could  save  me 
but  you.  But  you  were  not  there,  and  I  seized  the  key, 
and  wrote  the  words,  '  Come  home,  come  home  ! '  as  you 
had  taught  me,  thinking  that  would  bring  you.     Then, 


"COME  HOME!' 


199 


when  you  did  not  come,  I  felt  its  hot  breath  on  my  neck, 
as  if  it  were  just  going  to  clutch  me  in  its  dreadful  arms, 
and  I  screamed  so  loud  that  I  awoke.  The  room  was 
all  dark  and  filled  with  smoke,  so  thick  that  when  I 
jumped  up,  I  fainted  for  want  of  air.  And  O  Willie,  if 
you  had  not  come  just  when  you  did,  I  might — " 

"  There,  Maggie,  don't  let  us  think  of  what  might  have 
been,  but  rather  let  us  be  thankful  that  we  are  spared  to 
each  other  stilL" 


XIX. 


THE  PHANTOM   CONDUCTOR. 


A  passenger's  story. 


GIVE  this  little  sketch  to  the  public  with  the 

hope  that  some  one  may  give  me   a  rational 

H  solution  of  an  event  that  has  perplexed  me  for 

years.     My  address  is  "  Mrs.  Joseph  Lorrimer, 

Harrisburg,  Pennsylvania."     My  husband  is  overseer  of 

the  Crosby  Iron  Works,  just  outside  that  city. 

I  met  the  hero  of  this  story  during  my  bridal  tour. 
It  was  a  quiet  wedding,  and  there  being  no  money 
to  spare  on  either  side,  after  a  family  breakfast,  we 
went  directly  to  the  cars,  and  started  for  our  future 
home. 

I  was  a  young  thing  then,  just  eighteen.  The  trip — 
from  Philadelphia  to  Harrisburg — was  a  wonderful  trip 
to  me,  who  had  never  taken  an  hour's  ride  on  the  cars 
before  in  my  life. 

I  gazed  with   eager  eyes  upon  the  country  through 

which  we  passed,  and  all  that  was  going  on  around  me. 

'  The  passengers ;  the  car  and  its  fixtures ;  the  conductor 


THE  PHANTOM  CONDUCTOR.  20 1 

and  the  brakeman  ;  were  all  objects  whose  novelty  gave 
me  plenty  of  food  for  thought. 

At  Lancaster  the  cars  stopped  some  time  for  dinner  ; 
and  just  as  they  were  about  to  start  again,  our  conductor 
entered  the  car,  ushering  in  an  old  lady  in  Quaker  garb, 
beneath  whose  deep  bonnet  was  visible  a  kind,  plump, 
rosy  face,  with  bright-spectacled  eyes. 

She  glanced  round  on  either  side  as  she  advanced  up 
the  aisle  in  search  of  a  seat,  and,  in  obedience  to  a  nudge 
from  me,  Joseph  rose,  and  beckoning  to  the  conductor, 
said: 

"There  is  a  seat  for  the  lady  here." 

Smilingly  the  old  lady  approached.  I  commenced  to 
gather  up  the  shawls  and  packages  that  lay  upon  the  va- 
cant seat,  that  it  might  be  turned  to  its  proper  position, 
but  the  old  lady  checked  me. 

"  Don't  trouble  thyself,  friend ;  I  can  sit  just  as  well 
with  the  seat  as  it  is ; "  and  without  further  ceremony  she 
ensconced  herself  opposite  me,  while  the  one-eyed  con- 
ductor deposited  a  large  covered  bandbox  at  her  feet, 
and  paid  her  so  many  little  attentions,  at  the  same  time 
addressing  her  in  so  familiar  and  affectionate  a  manner, 
that  I  saw  at  once  she  was  no  stranger  to  him. 

A  glance  at  the  kind  old  face  opposite  soon  told  me 
that  they  were  mother  and  son,  for  the  two  faces  were 
wonderfully  alike,  especially  in  the  open,  cheerful  expres- 
sion. 

Drawn  toward  her  at  once,  we  soon  became  quite  so- 
ciable. As  I  had  surmised,  the  conductor  was  her  son, 
and  the  old  lady  was  very  proud  and  fond  of  him  indeed. 
He  was  a  fine,  portly-looking  man,  with  genial  brown 
whiskers  and  curly  hair.  He  would  have  been  really 
handsome,  had  it  not  been  for  the  loss  of  one  eye.  This 
9* 


202  THE  PHANTOM  CONDUCTOR. 

had  been  lost  by  disease,  the  exterior  of  the  eye  retain- 
ing its  original  expression.  The  remaining  eye  was  blue 
and  bright,  as  jolly  and  sparkling  as  the  rest  of  his  good- 
humored  face. 

He  stopped  to  have  a  word  with  his  mother,  and  as 
she  was  talking  with  us,  we  very  naturally  all  fell  into  con- 
versation together.  He  had  seen  a  great  deal  of  life  on 
the  rail,  and  his  conversation  to  me,  at  least,  was  vastly 
entertaining. 

Among  other  interesting  things  he  explained  to  us  the 
signs  and  signals  used  by  railroad  officials  upon  the  road. 
One  of  these  signals — the  only  one  I  need  mention  here 
— he  said  was  as  follows  : 

When  a  person  standing  in  the  road  in  front  of  or  by 
the  side  of  a  car,  throws  both  hands  rapidly  forward,  as  if 
motioning  for  the  cars  to  go  backward,  he  means  to  give 
information  that  there  is  "danger  ahead." 

"When  you  see  that  signal  given,  ma'am,"  said  our 
conductor,  "if  the  cars  don't  obey  it  by  backing,  do  you 
prepare  yourself  for  a  flying  leap ;  for  the  chances  are 
that  you  have  to  practise  it  before  long." 

He  spoke  lightly,  but,  noticing  that  the  ideas  suggested 
were  not  very  pleasant  ones  to  me,  he  changed  the  sub- 
ject, and  I  soon  forgot  the  little  feeling  of  discomfort  his 
words  had  occasioned. 

The  old  lady  did  not  travel  with  us  far.  She  stopped 
at  a  way  station  some  twenty-five  miles  west  of  Lancaster, 
where,  she  informed  us,  she  had  a  daughter  living.  Her 
own  home  she  had  already  told  us  was  in  Lancaster, 
where  she  lived  with  a  married  daughter,  who  kept  a 
boarding-house.  She  gave  us  one  of  this  daughter's  cards, 
and  Joseph  promised  if  ever  he  had  occasion  to  visit  Lan- 
caster he  would  try  to  find  her  out 


THE  PHANTOM  CONDUCTOR. 


203 


It  is  not  my  purpose  to  detain  the  reader  with  any  de- 
tails of  my  private  history,  further  than  is  necessary  to 
give  a  just  comprehension  of  what  is  to  follow.  Two 
years  had  elapsed  before  I  was  called  upon  to  take  the 
second  journey,  to  the  events  of  which  what  I  have  al- 
ready narrated  forms  a  necessary  prelude.  This  time  I 
was  journeying  alone  from  Harrisburg  to  Philadelphia, 
upon  a  visit  to  my  parents,  whom  I  had  not  seen  since 
my  marriage. 

I  was  very  ill  for  some  time  after  my  baby's  birth,  and 
after  I  had  regained  my  health,  the  little  fellow  was  taken 
ill.  After  nursing  him  all  summer,  he  finally  died.  I 
was  so  weak  and  miserable  myself,  that  I  could  not  strug- 
gle with  my  grief  as  I  should  have  done ;  I  pined  and 
fretted  and  wasted  away  till  the  doctor  ordered  a  change 
of  scene ;  something  to  cheer  me  up,  or  he  would  not 
answer  for  my  life. 

It  was  not  acceptable  advice  to  me.  I  did  not  want 
to  be  cheered  or  amused.  I  did  not  want  to  leave  home 
and  the  dear  reminders  of  my  dead  baby.  Above  all,  I 
did  not  want  to  leave  my  husband,  for  I  felt  a  supersti- 
tious dread  that  he  too  would  be  taken  from  me.  He 
could  not  leave  his  business  now,  but  promised  to  join 
me  as  soon  as  he  could.  So  he  wrote  to  father  that  I 
would  be  in  Philadelphia  on  a  certain  day,  and  having 
put  me  in  the  cars  at  Harrisburg,  he  knew  there  was  very 
little  doubt  but  that  I  should  reach  Philadelphia  after  a 
comfortable  half-day's  ride. 

Ah !  how  different  was  this  trip  from  the  one  I  had 
taken  two  years  before  !  How  different  was  I — the  wan- 
faced,  hollow-eyed  invalid  in  my  mourning  robes — from 
the  shy  blooming  girl,  in  her  bridal  array,  who  found 
so  much  to  amuse  and  interest  her  in  that  brief  journey. 


204 


THE  PHANTOM  CONDUCTOR. 


Nothing  interested  me  now — all  was  wearisome  and  mo- 
notonous. 

I  did  rouse  up  a  little  as  the  conductor  approached  to 
collect  my  fare — the  remembrance  of  the  one-eyed  man 
and  his  nice  little  mother  occurred  to  me  the  first  time 
for  many  months.  The  conductor,  however,  was  not  my 
old  acquaintance,  being  a  sallow,  dark-eyed,  cross-looking 
man,  as  different  as  possible  from  the  other  one.  I  felt  a 
little  disappointed  at  first,  but  after  he  left  me  I  leaned  my 
head  back  again  and  thought  no  more  about  the  matter. 

After  a  while  I  fell  into  a  dose,  which  lasted  until  the 
call  of  "  Lancaster — twenty  minutes  for  dinner  ! "  ringing 
through  the  cars  aroused  me  and  informed  me  that  we 
were  just  entering  that  city. 

I  sat  up  then,  sleepily  and  languidly.  It  was  a  warm 
day  in  early  October,  and  the  windows  of  the  car  were 
lowered  ;  I  leaned  my  elbow  upon  the  sash,  and  looked 
out  upon  the  scene  before  me.  As  I  was  thus  gazing, 
drowsy  and  indifferent,  neither  caring  nor  thinking  much 
about  what  I  saw,  I  noticed  a  man  upon  the  roadside,  a 
little  in  front  of  the  car  in  which  I  sat,  gesticulating  vio- 
lently with' his  hands  and  arms. 

The  next  minute  I  was  sitting  bolt  upright  in  my  seat, 
my  heart  leaping  almost  into  my  mouth  with  sudden 
fright,  for,  in  the  gestures  that  were  being  made,  I  recog- 
nized the  signal,  which,  two  years  before,  the  one-eyed 
conductor  had  told  me  meant  "  danger  ahead." 

The  cars  were  not  moving  very  rapidly,  and,  during 
the  moment-  that  we  were  passing  by  the  man  who  had 
given  the  signal,  I  had  a  full  view  of  him — his  face  being 
turned  towards  the  cars,  and  his  eyes  meeting  mine  so 
directly  that  I  could  have  spoken  to  him  had  I  chosen. 
I  recognized  him  at  once — it  was  the  one-eyed  conductor; 


THE  PHANTOM  CONDUCTOR. 


205 


and,  seeing  that,  I  was  worse  scared  than  ever,  being  now 
quite  confirmed  in  my  belief  that  an  accident  was  impend- 
ing ;  for  I  knew  that  he  must  occupy  some  responsible 
position  upon  the  road,  and  could,  therefore,  have  made 
no  mistake  in  the  matter. 

No  one  else,  however,  either  inside  or  outside  of  the 
car  seemed  to  partake  of  my  alarm.  The  cars  were 
slackening  their  speed,  but  that  was  because  we  were 
approaching  a  station,  and  from  no  other  cause  that  I 
could  ascertain.  I  had  not  intended  getting  out  of  the 
cars  until  I  had  reached  the  end  of  my  journey,  but  I  had 
been  so  startled  by  what  I  had  seen  that  I  could  not  sit 
quiet  in  my  seat. 

I  got  out  with  the  rest  of  the  passengers,  but  did  not 
follow  them  to  the  hotel.  I  stood  upon  the  platform, 
gazing  up  and  down  the  track  uneasily,  but  could  see 
nothing  at  all  that  could  awaken  apprehension. 

The  one-eyed  conductor  was  nowhere  to  be  seen, 
though  I  watched  the  road,  in  the  direction  where  we 
had  passed  him,  for  some  time,  expecting  every  moment 
to  see  him  come  into  sight. 

A.  porter,  trundling  a  wheelbarrow,  passed  me,  and 
of  him  I  ventured  timidly  to  inquire — 

"  Is  there  anything  the  matter  with  the  engine  or  with 
the  track?" 

"  Not  as  I  know  on,"  he  answered  gruffly,  and  passed 
on. 

I  was  still  terribly  uneasy ;  I  was  certain  that  I  had 
not  been  mistaken  in  the  man  or  the  signal ;  the  latter, 
especially,  I  remembered — a  forward  motion  with  both 
hands,  as  if  directing  the  cars  to  back.  I  could  recall 
distinctly  the  face  and  gestures  of  the  conductor  when  he 
had  explained  it  to  me,  as  also  his  words,  "  If  you  ever 


206  THE  PHANTOM  CONDUCTOR. 

see  that  signal  given,  prepare  for  a  flying  leap,  for  the 
probabilities  are  you'll  soon  have  to  take  it ; "  and  the 
longer  I  dwelt  upon  what  I  had  witnessed,  the  more  con- 
vinced did  I  become  that  the  signal  had  not  been  given 
causelessly. 

I  went  into  a  waiting-room  to  sit  down  until  I  could  de- 
termine what  it  would  be  best  for  me  to  do.  I  felt  a  most 
invincible  repugnance  to  returning  to  the  cars  and  con- 
tinuing my  journey  ;  the  excitement  and  worry  had  made 
me  sick  and  faint,  and  I  felt  that  I  ran  a  great  risk  of 
becoming  ill  before  I  reached  my  journey's  end,  even  if 
there  was  no  other  danger  dreaded.  What  if  I  should 
stay  over  at  Lancaster  until  next  day,  and  telegraph  to 
father  to  come  to  me  there  ?  And  at  the  same  instant 
I  remembered  that  there  was  in  my  travelling  satchel,  in 
the  little  outer  pocket  where  it  had  rested  undisturbed 
for  two  years,  the  card  which  the  old  Quaker  lady  had 
given  me,  bearing  the  name  and  address  of  her  daughter, 
who  kept  a  boarding-house.  That  remembrance  decided 
me ;  if  I  could  find  lodging  at  that  place,  I  would  remain 
over  night  at  Lancaster. 

There  were  plenty  of  conveyances  around  the  depot ; 
and  summoning  a  driver  to  me,  I  showed  him  the  card, 
and  asked  him  if  he  knew  the  address. 

"Certainly,  mum,"  he  said,  promptly;  "take  you 
there  in  ten  minutes  ;  Mrs.  Elwood's  boarding-house ; 
quiet  place,  but  excellent  accommodations,  mum." 

Thus  assured,  I  entered  his  carriage,  and  he  fulfilled 
his  promise  by  setting  me  down,  after  a  short  drive,  in 
front  of  an  unassuming,  two-story  frame  house,  whose 
quiet,  orderly  appearance  made  it  look  very  unlike  a 
boarding-house.  A  boarding-house  it  proved  to  be,  how- 
ever, and  in  the  landlady,  Mrs.  Elwood,  who  came  to 


THE  PHANTOM   CONDUCTOR. 


207 


me  after  I  had  waited  awhile  in  the  darkened  parlor,  I 
traced  at  once  so  strong  a  resemblance  to  my  old  Quaker 
friend,  as  convinced  me  I  had  found  the  place  I  sought. 

As  she  was  leading  me  upstairs  to  my  room,  I  ven- 
tured to  state  that  I  had  met  her  mother  two  years  be- 
fore, and  had  formed  a  travelling  acquaintance  with  her. 

Mrs.  El  wood's  pleasant  smile  upon  hearing  this  en- 
couraged me  to  ask  if  her  mother  was  living  with  her, 
adding  that  I  should  be  pleased  to  renew  the  acquaint- 
ance if  she  was. 

The  reply  was  in  the  affirmative. 

"  You  will  meet  her  at  dinner,  which  is  served  at  two ; 
and  she  will  be  glad  enough  to  have  a  chat  with  you,  I 
venture  to  say." 

I  wrote  out  my  telegram  to  father,  and  Mrs.  Elwood 
promised  to  have  it  attended  to  at  once  for  me  ;  then, 
after  doing  everything  for  me  that  kindness  could  sug- 
gest, she  left  me  to  the  rest  I  was  beginning  very  much 
to  feel  the  need  of. 

A  tidy-looking  little  maid  came  to  me  when  the 
dinner-bell  rang,  to  show  me  the  way  to  the  dining-room ; 
and  there  the  first  person  I  saw  was  my  little  old  lady, 
already  seated  near  the  upper  end  of  the  long  table. 

She  bowed  and  smiled  when  she  saw  me,  but  we 
were  too  far  apart  to  engage  in  any  conversation.  After 
the  meal  was  over  she  joined  me,  shook  hands  very  cor- 
dially, and  invited  me  to  come  and  sit  with  her  in  her 
own  room. 

I  was  glad  to  accept  the  invitation,  for  in  my  loneli- 
ness the  kind  face  of  this  chance  acquaintance  seemed 
almost  like  that  of  a  friend;  and  soon — in  one  of  the 
easiest  of  low-cushioned  chairs,  in  one  of  the  cosiest  of 
old-lady  apartments — I  was  seated,  talking  more  cheer- 


208  THE  PHANTOM  CONDUCTOR. 

fully  and  unreservedly  than  I  had  talked  since  my  baby's 
death. 

I  expressed  some  surprise  that  she  recognized  me  so 
promptly,  to  which  she  replied : 

"  I  had  always  a  good  memory  for  faces,  though 
names  I  am  apt  to  forget ;  when  my  daughter  spoke  to 
me  about  thee,  I  could  not  at  all  recall  thee  to  mind ; 
yet  as  soon  as  thee  entered  the  dining-room  I  remem- 
bered thee." 

"And  yet  I  do  not  look  much  like  I  did  two  years 
ago,"  I  said  sadly. 

"  That  is  true,  my  dear ;  thee  has  altered  very  much. 
I  almost  wonder  now  that  I  should  have  recognized  thee 
so  promptly.  Thee  has  seen  trouble,  I  fear,"  gently 
touching  my  black  dress. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "I  have  had  both  sickness  and  death  to 
battle  with ;  I  neither  look  nor  feel  much  like  the  thought- 
less, happy  bride  whom  you  met  two  years  ago." 

"  Is  it  thy  husband  who  has  been  taken  from  thee  ?  " 

"Oh,  no,  no,  no  !"  I  cried,  and  ready  tears  rising  to 
my  eyes ;  "  I  don't  think  I  could  have  lived  if  I  had  lost 
him.  It  was  my  baby  died ;  that  was  hard  enough — 
the  dearest  little  blue-eyed  darling  you  ever  saw,  just  ten 
months  old." 

My  old  friend's  face  betrayed  her  sympathy,  as  she  sat 
silently  waiting  for  me  to  regain  my  composure.  After 
a  little  while  she  said,  sighing  : 

"  It  is  hard  to  lose  a  child,  whether  young  or  old.  -I 
can  fully  sympathize  with  thee  in  thy  trouble,  for  I,  too, 
have  lost  a  son  since  I  last  saw  thee,  though  I  wear  no 
outer  garb  as  a  badge  of  my  bereavement." 

I  looked  at  her,  a  little  surprise  mingled  with  a 
sympathy  I  tried  to  express. 


THE  PHANTOM  CONDUCTOR. 


209 


"  I  thought  I  remembered  your  telling  me  you  had  but 
one  son  ?  " 

"  That  was  all,"  she  said  sorrowfully.  "  God  never 
gave  me  but  the  one,  and  him  He  has  taken  away." 

I  stared  at  her  now  in  undisguised  astonishment. 

"  Was  not  that  gentleman — surely,  madam,  I  was  not 
mistaken  in  thinking  the  conductor — the  gentleman  who 
brought  you  into  the  cars  when  we  met  two  years  ago — 
was  your  son  ?  " 

"  You  are  right ;  he  was  the  son  of  whom  I  have 
spoken." 

"  The  one-eyed  man  ?  "  I  gasped,  forgetting  delicacy 
in  astonishment. 

The  old  lady  flushed  a  little. 

"  Yes,  friend,  I  understand  whom  thee  means  ;  my  poor 
Robert  had  lost  the  sight  of  his  left  eye." 

"  I  saw  that  man  this  morning,"  I  cried.  "  I  saw  him 
from  the  car-window,  before  we  entered  Lancaster. 
What  strange  misunderstanding  is  this  ?  " 

"  Thee  has  mistaken  some  one  else  for  him,  that  is 
all,"  said  my. companion  gravely.  "  My  boy  thee  could 
not  have  seen,  for  he  died  fifteen  months  ago  the  fifteenth 
of  this  month.  He  died  of  cholera  after  only  two  days' 
illness.     Thee  could  not  have  seen  Robert." 

"  I  did  though — I  did  ! "  I  cried,  excitedly  ;  and  then 
I  related  to  her  the  whole  incident,  dwelling  particularly 
upon  the  signal  I  had  seen  him  make — a  signal  I  had 
never  seen  but  once  before  in  my  life,  and  then  made  by 
him  when  he  explained  it  to  me.  "I  was  not  mistaken," 
I  concluded ;  "  I  couid  not  be ;  your  son  was  not  an 
ordinary  looking  man,  and  I  remember  his  appearance 
distinctly.  Surely,  as  I  sit  here,  I  saw  this  morning  the 
man  who  you  tell  me  died  fifteen  months  ago." 


2io  THE  PHANTOM  CONDUCTOR. 

The  old  lady  looked  white  and  frightened,  while,  as 
for  me,  I  was  growing  so  hysterical  with  bewilderment 
and  excitement  that  she  would  allow  me  to  pursue  the 
subject  no  farther. 

She  led  me  to  my  room  and  persuaded  me  to  lie  down, 
leaving  me  then,  for  she  was  too  much  agitated  by  the 
conversation  we  had  to  be  able  to  soothe  or  quiet  me. 

I  saw  her  no  more  that  day.  I  did  not  go  to  tea. 
The  restless  night  I  passed,  in  conjunction  with  the  ex- 
citement of  the  day,  rendered  me  so  seriously  unwell  that  I 
was  not  able  to  rise  until  a  late  hour  the  following  morning. 

I  was  still  dressing  when  there  came  a  rap  at  my  door, 
accompanied  by  the  voice  of  my  Quaker  friend,  asking 
admittance. 

I  opened  the  door  and  she  entered,  with  white,  awe- 
struck face,  and  hands  that  trembled  so  she  could  hardly 
hold  the  newspaper  to  which  she  directed  my  attention. 

"  Friend,"  she  said,  "  thy  life  has  been  saved  by  divine 
interposition.  The  train  in  which  thee  was  yesterday  a 
passenger,  in  less  than  two  hours  after  thee  left  it,  was 
thrown  over  an  embankment,  at  a  place  called  the  '  Gap,' 
and  half  of  the  passengers  have  been  killed  or  wounded. 
Child  !  child ;  surely  as  thee  lives  that  vision  of  my  poor 
Robert  was  sent  to  save  thee !  " 

That  is  all  that  I  have  to  tell.  I  know  nothing  more 
about  the  affair  than  I  have  written,  and  I  have  no  com- 
ments to  make  upon  it.  I  saw  that  one-eyed  conductor 
make  the  signal  of  "  danger  ahead ; "  I  was  so  much  in- 
fluenced by  what  I  saw  that  I  could  not  continue  my 
journey.  In  less  than  two  hours  after  that  warning  had 
been  given  the  danger  was  met,  and  death  in  its  most  ap- 
palling form  was  the  fate  of  more  than  fifty  of  the  human 
beings  that  danger  signal  was  meant  to  warn. 


YOUR  HUMBLE  SERVANT'S    WIFE.  2II 

YOUR  HUMBLE  SERVANT'S  WIFE. 
A  fireman's  rhyme. 

'Twas  my  first  run  on  the  Hudson, 

And  I  had  old  Merrick's  flame; 
Though  I  won't  stop  now  to  tell  you 

How  she  got  her  name  and  fame, 
Leastwise  'twould  be  a  slander 

On  a  good  old  chum  of  mine, 
Who  was  killed  there  near  Poughkeepsie, 

When  he  run  the  Forty-nine. 

Well,  of  course  he  left  his  engine. 

For  I'm  sitting  in  his  cab ; 
When  he  pulled  out  for  New  Hamburg — 

But  I  ain't  a-going  to  blab. 
A  darnation  clever  feller, 

But  a  little  on  the  brine, 
Awful  sweet  on  Mary  Lawler, 

But  that's  no  affair  of  mine. 

She  was  waiter  at  Jim  Foster's, 

Out  of  Rochester  a-ways, 
Where  the  passengers  got  fodder 

And  the  boys — well,  Wilson  says 
There's  more  benzine  shoved  out  o'  there, 

In  small,  flat  flasks,  you  know ; 
And — as  I  was  just  a-sayin', 

Merrick  was  this  Mary's  beau. 

She  came  down  to  see  his  body, 

Just  as  though  she'd  been  his  wife, 
And  I  never  saw  a  woman 

Take  on  so  in  all  my  life ; 
Wrung  her  hands  and  cried — my  Lord  !  sir, 

Tore  her  hair  and  yelled  like  mad. 
I've  been  through  some  awful  scenes,  sir, 

Never  one  just  quite  so  bad. 


212  YOUR  HUMBLE  SERVANT'S  WIFE. 

She  kept  at  it  for  two  hours, 

Till  the  crowd  began  to  move  ; 
Some  with  eyes  a  little  moistened, 

Some  to  tell  of  woman's  love. 
Then  a  lot  of  heavy  fellows 

Came  to  sit  on  Sam's  remains ; 
Men  of  weight — say  three  parts  tallow, 

And  a  modicum  of  brains — 

Turned  him  over  for  inspection, 

Searched  his  pockets  through  and  through, 
Took  his  silver  watch  and  wallet, 

And  a  locket,  done  in  blue. 
».•■«•• 
Then  a  scream :  and  my  fine  feller 

With  the  trinket  in  his  hand, 
Found  two  arms  around  his  collar 

And  his  body  in  the  sand. 
Then  she  hauled  out  on  a  side  track, 

With  the  locket  safe  in  tow, 
For  you  see  it  held  his  picture — 

All  there  was  of  Merrick  now. 

"  Where  was  I  ?  "     Why,  right  on  hand,  sir  ; 

He  had  been  a  chum  of  mine 
On  the  "  Cincinnati  Short-Cut," 

In  the  year  of  Fifty-nine. 
When  I  heard  of  this  disaster 

I  went  out  to  lend  a  hand, 
And  was  ready  when  his  sweetheart 

Laid  that  fellow  in  the  sand. 

That  was  how  I  came  around  it, 

And  made  up  to  Merrick's  flame ; 
Told  her  now  I  had  his  engine, 

I  must  have  her — all  the  same. 
Then  she  spoke  of  poor  Sam  Merrick, 

And  the  time  he  lost  his  life  ; 
Of  the  locket — well,  sweet  Mary 

Is  your  humble  servant's  wife  I 


XX. 

THE  RAILWAY  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

The  Railway  in  America — Russian  Railways — The  Railway  in  Eng- 
land— A  Wooden  Railway — The  Railway  in  India — Railway 
Fortifications — The  Railway  in  Germany — No  Smoking — New 
Method  of  Heating  Cars — Why  Accidents  never  occur  on  German 
Railways — A  Peruvian  Railway — Another  Triumph  for  American 
Manufacturers — The  Passenger  Tariff  on  Railways  in  Europe — A 
Schedule  of  Prices. 


OWEVER  important  the  changes  which  railways 
have  introduced  may  be,  we  stand  as  yet  only 
on  their  threshold.  This  subject  must  naturally 
excite  the  attention  of  those  who  solve  social 
problems  and  compare  the  past  with  the  present  to  a 
higher  degree  in  America  than  in  Europe.  In  the  Old 
World  the  Railway  follows  the  beaten  path;  connects 
cities  which  exist  already,  and  serves  only  as  a  medium 
of  communication  between  long-established  centres  of 
population.  In  the  New  World,  creates  the  cities  which 
it  is  to  connect,  and  by  penetrating  into  the  wilderness, 
carries  thither  civilization  and  its  concomitants.  In  our 
Western  States,  cities  are  not  founded  to  meet  the  re- 


214 


THE  RAILWAY  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 


quirements  of  a  surrounding  population,  but  the  sur- 
rounding region  is  populated  to  meet  the  requirements  of 
cities,  which  have  been  imported  by  the  locomotive.  In 
all  countries  of  Europe,  England  alone  excepted,  the 
railway  is  under  the  control  of  the  Government.  In 
many  countries,  this  control  is  absolute  and  direct.  In 
England  the  railway  is  left  entirely  to  individual  enter- 
prise, and  the  result  has  demonstrated  how  inadequate  a 
mere  commercial  control  often  is  for  the  security  of  such 
vast  industrial  undertakings. 

The  development  of  the  railway  system  in  America  is 
also  left  to  individual  enterprise.  A  power  has  thus 
grown  up  in  our  midst,  which  not  only  influences  the  po- 
litical and  financial  measures  of  the  several  local  govern- 
ments, but  threatens  to  make  them  subservient  to  its  in- 
terests. Various  causes  bring  about  this  result.  First, 
the  distances  in  the  United  States  are  so  immense,  that 
the  lines  which  connect  the  main  points  of  trade  and 
travel  are  virtually  monopolies.  Then  though  private 
enterprises,  they  have  received  in  most  instances  aid 
from  the  different  States,  either  in  money  or  credits,  while 
Congress  has  donated  to  the  more  important  lines  large 
portions  of  the  public  domain.  In  this  way,  millions 
upon  millions  of  acres  have  passed  into  the  possession  of 
private  corporations,  which  not  only  own  the  lines,  but 
are  the  lords  of  the  whole  contiguous  territories.  There 
are  certainly  plausible  reasons  for  this  liberality.  With- 
out the  railway  to  fit  them  for  settlement,  the  vast  uncul- 
tivated regions  of  the  West  would  be  practically  inacces- 
sible, and  of  no  more  value  than  the  African  desert.  By 
encouraging  the  construction  of  railways,  which  demands 
a  heavy  outlay  of  capital,  with  grants  of  alternate  sections 
of  land  along  both  sides  of  the  line,  the  remaining  lands 


THE  RAILWAY  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD.     2l$ 

are  brought  within  the  reach  of  the  settler,  and  find  ready 
sale.  At  this  writing,  the  matter  is  being  viewed  from  a 
higher  standpoint,  by  a  class  of  people  exceedingly  jeal- 
ous of  the  growth  of  this  power.  Experience  teaches 
that  landed  property  goes  hand  in  hand  with  legislative 
influence,  and  even  democracies  are  no  exception  to  the 
rule.  The  consideration  of  the  consequences  of  these 
immense  grants  of  land  and  their  attendant  political 
power  as  regards  private  corporations,  is  left  to  the  intel- 
ligent citizen,  while  the  author  proceeds  with  his  gossip 
concerning  the  Railway  abroad. 

It  is  good  for  nations  as  well  as  individuals  to  be  re- 
lieved of  their  conceit,  especially  in  matters  in  which  they 
flatter  themselves  they  are  superior.  The  Yankee  car- 
builder  will  hardly  believe  that  the  Russians,  who  have 
been  regarded  as  half-reclaimed  savages,  are  capable  of 
teaching  him  a  very  seasonable  lesson. 

The  first  line  ever  laid  down  in  Russia,  extends  from 
Moscow  to  St.  Petersburg.  The  train  usually  consists  of 
half  a  dozen  cars  of  immense  length.  Entering  by  a 
broad,  easy  staircase  and  convenient  platform,  the  as- 
tonished and  delighted  traveller  finds  himself  in  a  saloon, 
with  a  table  in  the  centre,  surrounded  by  sofas  and  di- 
vans. Opening  from  one  side  of  this  saloon,  is  a  pas- 
sage leading  to  the  farther  end  of  the  carriage,  and  pass- 
ing on  to  an  iron  platform  outside.  Neither  height, 
stoutness,  crinoline,  nor  other  moderate  majesty  of  human 
proportions  or  ornament,  creates  any  obstacle  to  the 
free  movements  of  the  passenger.  Heavy  curtains,  when 
pushed  aside,  however,  reveal  three  pleasant,  private 
apartments,  if  he  desires  repose.  Each  is  furnished  with 
six  cosey  easy -chairs.  Another  passage  leads  to  similar 
apartments  reserved  for  ladies.     A  pretty  winding  stair- 


2i6     THE  RAILWAY  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

case  shows  the  way  to  a  sleeping-saloon  above.  The 
view  from  this  upper  floor  is  quite  charming  in  fine 
weather,  and  enables  the  traveller  to  observe  the  general 
aspect  of  the  country,  for  miles  in  every  direction. 
Everything  is  admirably  arranged.  The  doors  fit  closely, 
yet  open  easily ;  and  as  on  entering  the  carriage  it  is 
necessary  to  pass  several — of  which  one  shuts  as  the 
other  opens — there  are  no  drafts  from  the  wintry  air  out- 
side. Over  the  passage  is  a  loft,  where  may  be  stowed 
away,  within  arm's  reach,  whatever  a  reasonable  person 
can  expect  or  desire  to  have  with  him.  Double  windows 
exclude  the  bleak  air  from  rushing  directly  upon  weak 
lungs ;  but  there  is  so  good  a  system  of  ventilation, 
through  the  roof,  that  the  cars  are  never  unpleasantly 
close.  Lastly,  there  are  washing-places,  dressing-rooms, 
and  other  conveniences,  handsomely  fitted  up,  and  scru- 
pulously clean. 

The  amusements  in  this  Traveller's  Paradise,  are  num- 
erous and  varied.  They  beguile  the  tedium  of  a  journey 
so  effectively,  that  it  seems  like  a  holiday  jaunt,  rather 
than  the  usual  term  of  imprisonment  such  journeys  are 
in  other  countries.  Portable  card-tables,  wax-candles, 
chess,  draughts,  cards,  and  books  are  to  be  had  for  the 
asking.  Cheerful  games  and  good  reading  are  agreeably 
varied  by  festive  stoppages,  the  speed  being  about 
twenty-five  miles  an  hour,  and  a  first-class  station  every 
fifty  miles.  Here  is  to  be  found,  at  a  rational  price,  tea, 
such  as  scholars  love,  true  nectar  for  philosophers  ;  while 
ruder  sons  of  Adam  may  choose  other  drinks  from  divers 
rows  of  curiously  shaped  bottles  of  wonderful  wines,  and 
richly-colored  liqueurs.  There  are  bo?ibo7is  and  beef, 
ducks  and  geese,  partridges  and  venison,  mighty  stur- 
geon, and  the  doubtful  Russian  delicacies  of  caviare  and 


THE  RAILWAY  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 


217 


gelinottes.  There  are  even  clean  waiters,  white  linen, 
flowers,  and  bright  lights.  The  cheer  is  so  good  that  par- 
ties of  fine  ladies  and  smart  officers  travel  from  St. 
Petersburg  and  Moscow  expressly  to  dine  at  these  re- 
freshment stations.  When  the  traveller  has  plentifully 
regaled  himself,  according  to  his  eating,  and  the  night 
wears  on,  he  has  only  to  tell  the  railway  servant  that  he 
is  ready  for  sleep,  and  before  he  need  take  his  place  in 
the  train  again,  he  will  find  his  berth  ready.  The  berths 
on  this  railroad  are  superior  even  to  those  on  any  Amer- 
ican line.  They  are  as  good  as  the  berths  in  the  state- 
cabin  of  an  American  steamer. 

There  was  a  time  when  the  English  railway  was  better 
than  our  own,  but  that  time  has  passed.  Take  the  fastest 
train  on  the  direct  line  between  Liverpool  and  London, 
and  compare  it  with  similar  trains  on  the  Erie.  For 
this  distance  of  two  hundred  and  ten  miles,  through  first- 
class  fare  is  thirty-five  shillings,  or  about  nine  dollars. 
From  New  York  to  Elmira,  on  the  Erie,  a  distance  of 
two  hundred  and  seven  miles,  the  fare  is  eight  dollars  in 
a  drawing-room  coach — this  as  a  local  rate.  The  coaches 
here  are  more  elegant,  and  the  rates  perceptibly  cheaper 
than  in  England.  The  rate  of  speed  is  about  the  same, 
thirty  miles  an  hour.  There  is  no  comparison  in  regard 
to  smoothness.  The  Erie  gives  you  the  motion  of  an 
easy  carriage,  the  English  road  the  rattle  of  a  wheel- 
barrow. There  are  four  wheels  under  the  coach,  while 
here  we  have  twelve.  On  the  English  road,  a  failing 
wheel  necessitates  disaster.  Here  we  may  send  off  from 
one  to  four,  and  if  judiciously  selected,  the  coach  spins 
on  as  smoothly  as  before.  We  talk  and  write  with  ease 
on  our  American  lines ;  there  both  are  next  to  impossible. 

They  surpass  us,  perhaps,  in  the  division  of  cars  into 
10 


2i6 


ME  RAILWAY  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 


compartments,  in  their  system  of  taking  fares,  and  in 
the  politeness  and  attention  of  employes,  and  in  other 
particulars  that  affect  the  traveller,  but  we  shall  match 
them  in  this,  by  and  by.  At  every  railway  station  in 
England,  there  is  a  stairway  or  platform  or  other  means 
of  crossing  the  track.  Persons  who  disregard  the  pre- 
scribed way  and  step  upon  the  track,  are  immediately 
seized,  and  fined  twenty-five  dollars.  In  this  way  the 
companies  are  saved  many  suits  for  direct  and  con- 
structive damages.  Another  economic  experiment  was 
noticed.  This  is  the  Railway  Savings  Bank,  to  be  found 
on  all  the  principal  lines.  The  Company  brings  the  bank 
to  the  depositors,  saving  them  the  trouble  of  going  to  the 
bank.  In  this  way  they  collect  the  small  savings  of  their 
workmen  when  they  are  paid  off,  encouraging  and  en- 
abling them  to  be  provident  without  inconvenience,  and 
without  excuse  for  not  becoming  so.  Great  success  has 
attended  the  plan  from  the  start. 

There  are  599  railway  companies  in  the  United  King- 
dom. England  alone  has  434,  Scotland  80,  and  Ireland 
85  companies.  The  lines  of  about  half  of  the  total  of 
these  companies  are  either  leased  to  or  worked  by  the 
great  leaders  of  our  railway  republic.  The  other  half 
are  independent.  The  London  and  Northwestern,  the 
"  King  of  Railways,"  represented  by  a  length  of  1,507 
miles  open,  carried  in  the  twelve  months  ending  December, 
1871,  32,340,610  passengers,  being  just  about  the  total 
population  of  all  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland. 

China  has  not  a  mile  of  railway,  and  steadily  refuses 
all  applications  and  proposals  in  that  direction. 

Japan,  not  waiting  for  proposals,  organized  a  railway 
system  a  year  ago,  depending  altogether  upon  her  native 
population.     She  is  now  constructing  a  road  to  her  great 


THE  RAILWAY  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 


219 


seaport,  Yokohoma,  connecting  it  with  Yeddo,  the  capi- 
tal, and  the  principal  cities  of  the  interior.  Part  of  the 
railway  system  in  Japan  is  already  in  operation,  and  is 
being  pushed  forward  with  all  the  energy  of  American 
enterprise. 

The  Pasha,  who  is  the  Brother  Jonathan  of  Egypt, 
after  making  the  Suez  Canal  possible,  has  connected  his 
principal  cities  by  rail  with  the  seaports  on  the  Mediter- 
ranean and  the  Red  Sea.  This  enterprise  is  not  only  in 
the  interest  of  commerce,  but  the  wily  Pasha  has  mili- 
tary operations  in  view,  as  well.  He  is  fortifying  his 
little  kingdom  against  the  schemes  of  his  master,  the 
Sultan. 

They  are  planning  a  railway  now,  up  the  Nile  to  the 
ancient  City  of  Thebes.  What  echoes  the  whistle  of  the 
locomotive  may  start  in  those  hallowed  precincts  ! 

Next  in  length  of  mileage  to  the  London  and  North- 
western, comes  the  Great  Western,  with  1,387  miles  open. 

A  wooden  railway,  four  feet  eight  and  a  half  inch 
gauge,  has  been  constructed  in  the  province  of  Quebec, 
Canada.  The  rails  are  of  maple,  four  by  seven  inches, 
and  fourteen  feet  long ;  the  ties  of  hemlock  and  tamarac. 
The  line  is  thirty  miles  long,  and  cost  $5,000  per  mile, 
including  nine  stations,  car  and  locomotive  depot,  engine 
and  repairing  shops,  engine  and  tender,  two  passenger 
cars,  eight  grain  cars,  and  twenty-five  wood  cars.  The 
trains  run  with  remarkable  smoothness,  at  the  rate  of 
twenty-five  miles  an  hour.  Mr.  Brooks,  in  his  "Seven 
Months'  Run,"  says :  "  The  railroads  of  India  are  doing 
more  for  the  conversion  of  Hindoos,  if  not  Mohamme- 
dans, than  all  the  missionaries."  He  should  have  added, 
that  England  is  doing  more  with  these  same  locomotives 
to  convert  India  into  British  gold. 


220     THE  RAILWAY  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

You  get  a  good  idea  of  the  railway  in  India,  by  start- 
ing from  Calcutta  for  Benares,  en  route  to  Bombay,  1,407 
miles  distant  by  rail.  You  travel  by  the  "  East  Indian 
R.  R."  line.  During  the  long  hours  of  your  journey, 
you  cannot  better  amuse  yourself  than  by  noticing  and 
asking  questions  about  the  peculiarities  of  railway  con- 
struction in  India.  Remember,  that  all  the  iron  in  the 
track,  the  locomotives  and  cars,  were  transported  from 
England,  a  voyage  by  sea  of  from  15,000  to  20,000 
miles.  The  ties  or  sleepers  of  the  track  are  iron,  the 
roofs  of  the  freight  cars  are  of  corrugated  iron,  the  tele- 
graph poles  are  hollow  cylinders  of  galvanized  iron,  all 
from  the  same  country.  Nearly  everything  in  the  way 
of  railway  material  is  also  manufactured  in  England. 
The  head  of  every  department  and  work  in  the  Indian 
railways — every  conductor  and  engine-driver,  is  an 
Englishman,  imported  for  the  purpose.  Educated  Indians 
are  made  very  useful  in  subordinate  positions  at  station 
and  freight  houses. 

The  track  is  mainly  ballasted  with  broken  brick, 
burned  in  kilns  along  the  line.  The  depot  buildings  and 
fences  are  constructed  of  the  same  earth  material,  and 
the  roofs  are  covered  with  brick-tile,  No  insurance  is 
needed.  Every  station-house  is  strongly  built,  and 
adapted  for  the  double  purpose  of  railway  traffic  and 
military  fortification,  where  necessity  demands.  Every 
line  of  railway,  therefore,  becomes  a  line  of  forts — a  clever 
scheme  and  of  vast  importance,  when  we  consider  the 
infinitely  small  number  of  English,  compared  to  the 
native  population.  Clever  people,  these  Anglo  ancestors 
of  ours,  in  spite  of  their  antipathy  to  "Alabama"  claims 
and  consequential  damages.  They  have  most  success- 
fully bound  India  together  with  their  net-work  of  iron, 


THE  RAILWAY  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD.     22I 

transported  from  its  native  English  hills  15,000  miles 
away.  They  have  ruled  those  millions  of  discordant 
Indian  people  with  squads  of  unacclimated  troops, 
counted  only  by  scores  in  the  comparison. 

If  you  start  from  St.  Goarshausen,  for  a  dash  over  a 
German  railway,  you  take  the  second-class  carriage. 
Thus  you  avoid  the  soft  cushions  and  red  velvet  of  the 
first-class  carriage,  quite  an  advantage  with  the  thermome- 
tor  at  85°  in  the  shade.  Many,  if  not  most,  of  the  Ger- 
man railways  have  four  classes  of  carriages,  in  the  grand- 
est of  which  by  day  sit  only  princes  and  fools.  By  night 
in  an  express  train,  where  there  are  no  sleeping  accom- 
modations, a  first-class  carriage  is  a  matter  of  necessity, 
but  at  no  other  time.  We  endeavored  once  to  escape 
the  tobacco  smoke  of  inferior  company,  by  travelling  first- 
class.  While  indulging  in  congratulations  on  having  a 
solitary  potentate  as  a  fellow-passenger,  the  baron  brought 
out  a  pipe,  with  a  bowl  as  big  as  a  coffee  cup,  and  began 
to  puff  away,  without  so  much  as  saying  "  by  your  leave." 
You  find  there  a  new  method  of  heating  cars.  A  prepa- 
ration of  wood,  charcoal,  nitrate  of  potash  and  starch,  is 
employed.  It  is  put  in  close  iron  boxes,  placed  under 
the  seats,  a  double  top  being  employed  to  prevent  the 
seats  of  the  cars  from  becoming  inconveniently  hot.  The 
prepared  charcoal  is  packed  in  boxes,  in  pieces  four 
inches  long,  three  inches  wide,  and  two  inches  thick.  On 
the  line  between  Aix-la-Chapelle  and  Berlin,  eight  pieces 
constitute  the  quantity  used  for  heating  a  compartment. 

This  serves  to  warm  the  car  efficiently,  during  sixteen 
hours,  the  fuel  being  still  red  hot  at  the  end  of  the  jour- 
ney. The  prepared  charcoal  costs  thirty-two  shillings 
the  hundredweight,  and  the  expense  of  heating  one  com- 
partment is  about  three  farthings  an  hour. 


222     THE  RAILWAY  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

In  Germany,  an  accident  has  never  occurred  from  the 
breaking  of  a  rail.  Not  a  person  has  lost  his  life,  nor  has 
a  person  been  mutilated  from  this  cause,  in  all  the  thirty 
or  more  years  that  steam  carriages  have  been  running  on 
iron  ways  in  Germany.  The  reason  is  plain.  It  is  de- 
termined by  scientific  experiment  how  long  iron  will  re- 
sist, on  an  average,  the  beating  of  wheels,  and  then  the 
law  requires  the  railway  authorities  to  put  down  new  rails 
periodically,  whether  those  in  use  exhibit  signs  of  weak- 
ness or  not.  While  this  involves  expense,  it  is  so  man- 
aged as  to  be  gradually  distributed  over  a  period  of  years, 
until  the  whole  is  completed  within  the  given  time. 

The  Peruvian  Government  is  now  constructing  a  rail- 
way 14,000  feet  above  the  water.  It  goes  over  the 
Andes,  7,000  feet  higher  than  the  highest  point  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada,  crossed  by  the  Central  Pacific  Railway. 
This  elevation  is  within  1,000  feet  of  perpetual  snow. 
Mr.  Edward  H.  Spaulding,  of  Bloomington,  New  Jersey, 
assistant  engineer  of  the  Montclair  Railway  for  four 
years,  is  now  in  that  country  with  some  of  our  best  Amer- 
ican engineers,  who  were  selected  to  accomplish  this 
difficult  undertaking. 

This  railway  goes  from  Peru  to  Arequipa,  forty  miles ; 
thence  to  Puno,  on  Lake  Titicaca.  This  lake  is  partly 
in  Peru  and  partly  in  Bolivia,  and  is  one  of  the  princi- 
pal sources  of  the  Amazon,  which  is  navigable  for  nearly 
4,800  miles.  The  combined  railway  and  steamboat  com- 
munication will  cross  the  continent  at  its  widest  point. 
Mr.  Meigs,  the  contractor,  has  had  contracts  in  that 
country  amounting  to  over  $100,000,000.  Our  Amer- 
ican styles  of  cars  and  rolling  stock  will  be  introduced  on 
this  railway,  thus  adding  another  triumph  to  our  Ameri- 
can manufactures. 


THE  RAILWAY  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD.     223 

The  following  statement  of  prices  on  the  railways  of 
Europe,  per  one  hundred  miles,  in  first,  second,  and 
third  class  carriages,  and  on  express  trains,  may  be  of 
interest  to  Americans  who  visit  Europe,  or  those  who 
would  contrast  the  expense  of  travelling  : 

Russia — First-class,  14s.  5d. ;  second-class,  10s.  iod. ; 
third-class,  3  s. 

Prussia — First-class,  12s.  6d. ;  second-class,  10s. ;  third 
class,  3s.  2d.  Express  train — first-class,  14s. ;  second- 
class,  12s.  The  Rhine — first-class,  us.  iod. ;  second- 
class,  8s.  ;  third-class,  3s.  iod. 

Norway — First-class,  13s. ;  second-class,  9s.  ;  third- 
class,  4s.  6d. 

Sweden — First-class,  us. ;  second-class,  7s.  6d.  ^third- 
class,  4s.  od. ;  Express  trains — first-class,  13s.  ;  second- 
class,  1  OS. 

Bavaria — First-class,  10s. ;  second-class,  7s. ;  third- 
class,  4s.  iod. 

Belgium — First-class,  10s.  3d. ;  second-class,  7s.  6d. ; 
third-class,  5  s. 

Wurtemburg — First-class,  10s.  3d. ;  second-class,  6s. 
8d. ;  third-class,  5s.  id. 

Denmark — First-class,  12s. ;  second-class,  9s. ;  third- 
class,  6  s. 

Spain — First-class,  14s.  7d. ;  second-class,  10s.  5&  ; 
third-class,  6s.  3d. 

Austria — First-class,  13s. ;  second-class,  10s.  3d.  ; 
third-class,  6s.  6d. 

Saxony — First-class,  us. ;  second-class,  8s.  3d. ;  third- 
class,  6s.  8d. 

Switzerland — First-class,  12s.;  second-class,  9s.; 
third-class,  6  s.  8d. 

Italy — First-class,  14s. ;  second-class,  10s.  6d. ;  third- 


224 


THE  RAILWAY  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 


class,  7s.  Express  trains — first-class,  16s. ;  second-class, 
12s. 

Portugal — First-class,  13  s.  3d.  ;  second-class,  10s. ; 
third-class,  7  s. 

Holland — First-class,  14s. ;  second-class,  10s. ;  third- 
class,  7  s. 

France — First-class,  14s.  6d. ;  second-class,  ns. ; 
third-class,  7  s.  6d. 

Great  Britain  and  Ireland — First-class,  18s.  6d. ; 
second-class,  13s.  4d. ;  third-class,  8s.  Express  trains — 
first-class,  21s.;  second-class,  16s.  8d. 

It  will  be  seen  that  there  are  no  third-class  carriages 
on  express  trains,  on  European  railways.  Also,  that 
Russia  and  Prussia  accommodate  the  working  classes  at 
the  cheapest  rates,  while  the  tariff  of  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland  is  the  highest  of  all  for  first,  second,  and  third 
class  carriages  and  express  trains.  It  must  however  be 
borne  in  mind,  that  in  those  foreign  countries,  where  the 
railways  do  not  belong  to  the  State,  the  shareholders  re- 
ceive considerable  Government  assistance,  in  considera- 
tion of  their  being  compelled  to  adopt  a  low  tariff.  The 
rates  per  mile  on  these  roads,  reduced  to  our  currency, 
will  not  bring  travel  to  as  low  a  standard  as  in  this 
country,  unless  we  take  their  third-class  carriages.  On 
their  first-class  and  express  trains,  the  average  is  from 
four  cents  per  mile,  to  six  and  a  half  cents  ;  on  the  sec- 
ond and  third,  from  two  and  a  quarter  to  three  and  three 
quarters  per  mile. 

If  you  are  limited  to  forty  days  abroad,  the  expense 
will  be  about  $350.  For  instance,  you  leave  New 
York  July  20,  and  arrive  in  Liverpool  on  the  30th.  In 
London  three  days ;  to  Paris  via  Southampton,  visiting 
Metley,  Cowes  Rouden,  two  days,  and  home  in  ten  days, 


THE  RAILWAY  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD.     22$ 

costing  as  follows  in  gold :  Steamer  excursion  ticket, 
$140  ;  expenses  on  board,  $10  ;  four  days  in  England  at 
$10 — $40;  to  Paris,  via  Southampton,  $7;  extras,  $10; 
four  days  in  Paris  at  $5 — $20;  circular  ticket  to  Switzer- 
land, $27.50;  eight  days  at  $5  extra,  $40;  to  Liver- 
pool from  Paris,  $35  ;  extras,  $5,  on  the  voyage  home 
— total,  $344.40.  The  charge  of  $10  per  day  in  England 
will  cover  railway  expenses.  The  Queen's  Hotel,  St. 
Martin's  Le  Grand  (opposite  the  post-office),  London,  is 
a  good  family  house — rooms  from  4s.  to  7s.  per  day — 
order  what  you  like.  The  best  restaurant  in  London  is 
the  '  Gaiety,'  on  the  Strand,  near  the  Charing  Cross  Hotel 
— dinner  admirably  served,  3  s.  6d.,  exclusive  of  wine. 


XXI 


THE    REAR   CAR. 


A  COMMERCIAL  TRAVELLER'S  STORY. 


Y  father,  who  had  been  a  prosperous  merchant 

in  the  city  of  B.,  was  ruined  by  the  war.  '  I  took 

a  position  with  a  large  New  York  house,  and 

soon  became   a  leading  commercial  traveller. 

Early  in  the  fall  of  18 — ,  I  took  the  ten  p.m.  train  from 

B.  for  the  city,  having  in  my  possession  collections  to  a 

large  amount. 

I  had  learned  that  the  safest  place  on  the  train  is  the 
last  car,  and  as  there  is  usually  the  most  room  there,  I 
took  my  place  in  a  double  seat  near  its  centre.  There 
were  but  four  other  passengers  in  this  car :  an  old  gen- 
tleman trying  to  read  a  morning  paper  by  the  dim  lamp- 
light, two  farmers,  and  a  man  who  appeared  to  be  an  in- 
valid— bundled  up  to  his  eyes  in  a  large  shawl. 

The  train  moved  off,  and  as  soon  as  the  conductor  had 
been  through  the  car,  I  fixed  myself  for  a  nap.  I  ar- 
ranged myself  with  my  back  toward  the  front  of  the  car, 
and  with  the  aid  of  my  overcoat  and  bag,  made  quite  a 
comfortable  couch.     I  was  just  dozing  off,  when  I  was 


THE  REAR   CAR. 


227 


again  awakened  by  the  brakeman  opening  the  door  and 
shouting  the  name  of  the  station  we  were  approaching. 
At  this  place,  the  old  gentleman  and  the  two  farmers  got 
out,  leaving  the  invalid  and  myself  the  sole  occupants  of 
the  last  car. 

The  train  hurried  on,  and  I  again  closed  my  eyes.  I 
soon  succeeded  in  getting  to  sleep,  and  was  enjoying 
quite  a  comfortable  nap,  when  I  was  awakened  by  an  un- 
comfortable choking  sensation  and  a  painful  feeling  of  con- 
straint As  I  attempted  to  move,  I  found  that  I  was  power- 
less, and  I  realized  with  feelings  of  surprise  and  alarm, 
that  I  was  gagged,  and  bound  securely  with  fine  ropes  to 
the  seat  in  which  I  sat.  My  captor  now  came  in  front  of 
me.  It  was  the  invalid,  whom  I  now  recognized  as  an  un- 
principled villain  by  the  name  of  Bradley  Morgan.  He  had 
been,  a  few  months  previous,  in  the  employ  of  my  father, 
but  had  robbed  us,  and  had  been  convicted,  on  account 
of  conclusive  evidence  which  I  had  furnished  against 
him.  He  had  broken  jail,  however,  and  his  whereabouts 
till  now  had  been  unknown  to  me.  With  these  circum- 
stances fresh  in  my  memory,  I  knew  I  had  little  mercy  to 
expect  at  the  hands  of  this  man.  With  the  utmost  cool- 
ness, he  now  examined  my  pockets,  and  took  from  them 
my  watch,  collections,  and  all  the  valuables  they  con- 
tained. He  even  took  the  gold  button  from  my  shirt 
collar,  and  wrenched  a  large  seal  ring  from  the  middle 
finger  of  my  left  hand.  This  done,  he  blew  out  both  the 
lights  of  the  car,  passed  out  the  forward  door,  and  closed 
it  after  him.  Another  moment,  and  I  heard  the  rear  door 
of  the  forward  car  open  and  shut,  and  I  felt  relieved  that 
1  had  escaped  bodily  harm  at  the  hands  of  the  scoundrel. 

He  had  not  been  gone  a  minute,  when  I  felt  that  the 
train  was  gradually  lessening  in  speed.     It  drifted  along 


228  THE  REAR   CAR. 

for  a  little,  and  slowly  came  to  a  stand-still.  I  supposed 
that  we  had  stopped  at  some  small  station,  and  the  con- 
ductor or  some  passenger  would  shortly  come  in  and  re- 
lieve me  from  my  very  unpleasant  position.  I  twisted 
my  head  around  as  best  I  could,  and  looked  through  the 
front  windows  of  the  car.  I  saw  the  lights  of  the  rest  of 
the  train  disappearing  in  the  distance,  away  down  the 
road  / 

May  I  never  feel  again  the  horror  of  that  moment ! 
The  awful  nature  of  my  situation  flashed  on  me  like  an 
electric  shock. 

After  successfully  accomplishing  the  robbery,  Bradley 
Morgan  had  uncoupled  the  last  car,  the  brakeman  having 
gone  into  the  forward  car,  as  the  train  did  not  stop  again 
for  almost  an  hour.  For  the  same  reason  the  absence 
of  the  last  car  would  not  be  noticed  for  some  time.  And 
there  I  was  left  powerless  in  the  last  car,  to  be  run  down 
and  horribly  killed  by  the  night  express,  which  followed 
us  in  forty-five  minutes  ! 

At  first  I  was  almost  stupefied  with  terror.  I  felt  that 
I  had  but  half  an  hour  to  live,  and  at  the  end  of  that 
time  an  awful  fate  awaited  me.  All  my  past  life,  even  to 
trifling  events,  seemed  to  pass  before  me — a  thousand 
things  that  I  thought  I  had  forgotten  came  back  to  me  in 
that  moment  with  wonderful  vividness.  I  thought  of  my 
father  and  mother,  and  the  dreadful  affliction  which  was 
so  soon  to  come  upon  them.  It  seemed  as  though  I 
could  see  the  once  happy  home  of  my  childhood,  now 
to  be  darkened  with  grief.  Oh,  how  fervently  I  prayed 
that  I  might  be  saved  ! 

Rousing  myself,  I  strained  the  cords  that  held  me  with 
the  strength  of  desperation,  but  though  they  cut  deep 
into  my  flesh,  they  did  not  yield  at  any  point.     At  last, 


THE  REAR   CAR. 


229 


after  repeated  exertions,  I  succeeded,  to  my  great  joy, 
in  freeing  my  left  hand.  The  ropes,  however,  still  passed 
around  my  left  arm  at  the  elbow,  and  prevented  a  free 
use  of  it.  I  tried  at  first  to  loosen  or  untie  the  ropes, 
but  I  found  that  this  could  not  be  done.  Then  I  man- 
aged with  much  trouble  and  some  loss  of  time  to  get  my 
jack-knife  from  my  right  trouser  pocket.  With  the  help 
of  my  teeth  I  succeeded  in  opening  one  of  the  blades, 
and  with  excited  eagerness  began  to  cut  the  ropes.  Un- 
fortunate haste  !  At  the  first  stroke  of  the  knife  it  slipped 
from  my  hands,  and  fell  just  out  of  reach  on  the  seat. 

A  cold  sweat  burst  out  all  over  me,  and  it  seemed  to 
me  as  though  my  last  hope  were  gone.  I  knew  that  at 
least  twenty  minutes  had  already  passed,  and  that  I  had 
but  little  more  than  that  left.  I  would  have  given  untold 
wealth  to  have  known  just  how  much  I  had. 

The  knife  had  fallen  on  the  seat,  to  the  right  of  me, 
and  I  could  not  reach  it  with  my  left  hand,  strain  as  I 
would.  For  some  minutes  I  wrenched  and  writhed  like 
a  madman,  foaming  at  the  mouth ;  and  then,  exhausted, 
I  sank  back  in  despair.  And  there  I  sat — sat  and  waited 
and  listened  for  the  coming  of  the  train?  Twenty  times 
I  thought  I  heard  it,  but  still  it  did  not  come.  At  last  1 
really  heard  the  rattle  of  the  approaching  cars  ;  very  faint 
at  first  but  gradually  growing  louder. 

Again  I  strained  every  nerve  to  reach  the  knife,  and 
this  time  the  tips  of  my  fingers  rested  on  it.  In  another 
moment  I  had  it  firmly  in  my  hand,  and  was  cutting 
quickly  but  carefully  the  cursed  ropes  that  held  me.  I. 
had  loosened  almost  all,  when,  raising  my  eyes  again,  I 
saw  the  head-light  of  the  engine  come  tearing  along  toward 
me  !  In  an  instant  the  last  rope  was  cut,  and  scarcely 
another  passed  before  I  was  leaping  from  the  car. 


230 


THE  REAR    CAR. 


Just  in  time,  for  a  moment  afterward  the  engine  of  the 
night  express  dashed  into  the  car  which  I  had  left,  crush- 
ing it  into  a  shapeless  mass  of  wood  and  iron  ! 

The  result  of  the  smash-up  was  the  total  demolition  of 
my  car,  almost  entire  destruction  of  the  locomotive,  and 
partial  wrecking  of  most  of  the  cars  in  the  train.  No 
lives  were  lost,  however,  the  engineer  being  the  only  per- 
son seriously  injured. 

Measures  for  Morgan's  apprehension  were  taken  at 
once.  He  was  in  custody  within  a  week,  most  of  the 
stolen  property  having  been  found  in  his  possession.  He 
was  arrested  in  New  York,  and  while  being  conveyed  by 
the  same  railway  to  B.  he  attempted  to  leap  from  the 
train.  Slipping,  he  fell  under  the  wheels,  and  was 
crushed  to  death. 


XXII 


THE   SNOW   BLOCKADE. 


The  Night  Express  Snowed  in — The  Conductor's  Cool  Announce- 
ment— Making  the  Best  of  It — Personal  Experiences  of  Travel- 
lers— Judges,  Lawyers,  Doctors,  and  Preachers — The  Employe's 
Apprenticeship — The  Polite  Attentions  of  Conductors  and 
Brakemen — A  Superintendent  Exposed — The  Timid  Traveller 
— The  Consumptive  Traveller — Lunches — Hints  to  Travellers — 
Reading  on  the  Cars — Lateral,  Vertical,  and  Diagonal  Motion — 
The  Hog  Palace  Car — Time-table  in  1769 — No  Excuse  for 
Ladies'  Cars — Suits  for  Damages — An  Item  for  the  Ladies — 
Trains  Behind  Time — Editorial  Passes — A  Heathen  Colony — 
Custom-house  Annoyances — All  Aboard ! 

COLD  morning  in  December,  the  severest  of 

the  year.     The  night  express  due  in  B at 

noon  was  still  behind  time,  and  now  its  passen- 
gers looked  out  through  the  narrow  windows 
upon  a  landscape  white  with  snow.  The  wind  howled 
dismally,  and  the  ominous  roar  could  be  distinctly  heard 
above  the  endless  clatter  of  the  wheels  beneath  our  cars. 
The  snow  was  still  falling,  and  the  gale  catching  it  up  in 
clouds,  dashed  it  in  drifts  against  the  train,  enveloping 
roof  and  platform,  and  measuring  its  depth  upon  every 


232 


THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE. 


available  surface.  Now  and  then  a  jerk  and  a  sudden 
pull  forward  would  warn  us  that  far  to  the  front  the 
great  engine  had  encountered  some  snowy  barrier.  Yet 
through  and  on  moved  the  long  train,  in  the  light  of  the 
early  morning,  until  day  gradually  stole  upon  the  travel- 
lers, now  thoroughly  awake  to  a  scene,  so  cold  and  for- 
bidding without  as  only  to  give  a  keener  zest  to  the 
cosey  comfort  within. 

The  storm  seemed  to  increase  in  violence  as  the  hours 
wore  on.  Eight  o'clock,  and  the  breakfast  station  still 
twenty  miles  away !  The  snow-drifts  grew  more  and 
more  formidable  at  our  front,  and  the  engine  gave  signs 
of  weakening  before  the  increasing  strength  of  the  ene- 
my. Passengers  began  to  grow  uneasy  ;  looked  nervous- 
ly at  their  watches  and  peered  anxiously  out  of  the  win- 
dows. Consulted  their  time-tables ;  assailed  the  conductor 
whenever  he  passed  with  all  sorts  of  irrelevant  inquiries, 
when  suddenly — the  train  slackened  its  speed,  again 
moved  on,  slackened  again,  and  then  stopped  perfectly 
still  with  a  jar  and  a  rebound,  which  had  well-nigh  sent 
some  unwary  ones  off  their  feet. 

There  was  an  immediate  rush  for  the  forward  car  to 
learn  the  extent  of  the  trouble.  One  or  two  imprudent 
ones  attempted  to  alight,  but  on  finding  themselves 
waist-deep,  were  only  too  glad  to  regain  the  solid  footing 
of  the  platform.  Meanwhile,  the  word  ran  down  from 
mouth  to  mouth  and  from  car  to  car:  "Snowed  in  1" 
The  situation  was  growing  worse  with  every  moment,, 
and  the  possibility  of  extricating  the  train  grew  more  re- 
mote with  every  keen  blast  that  came  to  add  a  few  more 
inches  to  the  thickening  wall  around  us.  The  barrier 
grew  higher  every  instant,  front  and  rear  and  on  every 
side.     Spasmodic  efforts — now  forward,  now  back,  prov- 


THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE. 


233 


ed  fruitless,  and  at  length  the  great  monster,  weary  and 
exhausted,  ceased  its  fierce  breathing,  and  the  train  lay 
still,  half  buried  in  the  snow. 

The  conductor  announced  that  the  dining-car  had  pro- 
visions for  two  days,  and  that  headquarters  would  soon 
discover  the  trouble  and  send  a  "  working  train  to  their 
assistance.  The  gentlemen  could  amuse  themselves 
around  the  warm  fires  in  the  smoking  and  express  cars, 
and  the  ladies  could  have  sole  possession  of  the  sleeping 
and  dining  cars.  It  was  best  to  prepare  for  a  day  and — 
perhaps  a  night  in  the  snow."  So  we  went  forward 
to  our  seats,  exchanged  cards  and  introductions,  lit  our 
cigars,  and  fell  to  filling  the  hours  with  grunts  and  com- 
plaints, animadversions  upon  the  management  of  railways, 
the  alarming  increase  in  the  number  of  accidents,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing.  There  were  travellers  in  the  party 
who  had  been  around  the  world  by  steam  ;  good-natured 
passengers,  lymphatic  travellers,  timid  travellers,  curious 
travellers ;  doctors,  lawyers,  and  professors. 

"  Now  if  we  only  had  a  press  and  type,"  began  the 
Professor,  "what  a  jolly  newspaper  we  could  make.  There 
is  a  newspaper  in  Scotland  which  is  printed  in  a  car,  on 
the  road  from  Edinburgh  to  Glasgow.  The  press,  cases 
of  type,  and  compositors  are  all  in  the  car,  and  the  news 
and  telegrams  received  on  the  road,  so  that  the  edition  for 
the  provinces  is  worked  off  en  route  /" 

"  Attention  ! "  exclaimed  the  colonel,  rising  and  mo- 
tioning with  his  cane — "  Now  see  how  that  fellow  slams 
the  door  !  I  take  it  that  the  employe's  apprenticeship  is 
very  short.  A  man  is  believed  to  be  competent  for  the 
position  when  he  can  shut  a  door  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
lead  the  occupant  of  the  tenth  seat  back  to  infer  that 
it  is  too  late  to  prepare  for  eternity." 


234 


THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE. 


"  I  may  say,  colonel,"  said  the  judge,  "  that  it  is  hard- 
ly reasonable  to  expect  too  much  in  the  way  of  polite  at- 
tentions from  conductors  and  brakemen  on  railroad  trains, 
and  no  one  is  disappointed  at  not  receiving  them.  I  do 
not  think  it  unreasonable,  however,  to  ask  any  Company 
desiring  the  patronage  of  the  travelling  public,  that  they 
shall  employ  at  least  one  man  to  a  train  who  is  able  and 
willing  to  give  a  civil  answer  to  a  civil  question.  It  might 
also  be  advisable  for  them  to  correct  certain  evils  without 
waiting  for  suggestions  from  the  public  or  the  press.  For 
instance,  the  custom  prevalent  among  brakemen  of 
thrusting  their  heads  into  the  cars  and  growling  out  the 
name  of  a  station,  the  last  syllables  of  which  are  nipped 
in  the  bud  by  the  premature  slamming  of  the  door,  is 
particularly  objectionable,  and  should  be  corrected.  The 
only  result  accomplished  by  this  calling  out  of  the  names 
of  stopping-places,  is  to  set  people  wondering  what  the 
man  said,  or  tried  to  say.  If  this  matter  is  left  to  the  em- 
ployes of  the  road,  responsible  parties  should  see  that  it 
is  properly  attended  to.  But  we  see  no  reason  why  it 
should  be  left  to  them  at  all.  An  excellent  apparatus 
for  informing  travellers  of  the  names  of  stations  is  used 
on  the  passenger  trains  of  the  Ogdensburg  and  Lake 
Champlain  Railroad.  It  consists  of  a  small  wooden  box 
with  a  glass-front,  surmounted  by  a  bell.  When  a  train 
arrives  at  a  station  the  bell  rings  and  the  name  of  the 
next  stopping-place  on  the  route  appears  under  the  glass 
in  letters  three  inches  in  length.  Such  an  apparatus  is  a 
great  addition  to  the  comfort  of  railway  travellers,  and 
saves  much  anxiety  arising  from  mistakes  and  uncertainty. 
We  do  not  see  why  some  such  arrangement  could  not  be 
adopted  on  all  roads.  A  reliable  indicator  of  this  de- 
scription would  relieve  the  public  from  the  annoyance  of 


THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE. 


235 


questioning  reticent  conductors  and  surly  brakemen,  and 
save  a  great  deal  of  trouble  all  round." 

"  I  think,"  said  the  commercial  traveller,  "  that  I  will 
expose  one  man  who  is  worthy  of  notice.  I  wish  to  ex- 
pose him  to  the  admiration  of  the  public  in  general,  es- 
pecially all  those  who  journey  by  rail,  and  whose  associa- 
tions compel  them  to  ride  upon  it.  Mr.  George  A.  Mer- 
rill, Superintendent  of  the  Rutland,  Burlington,  and  Ver- 
mont Valley  Railroad,  has  issued  this  notice,  and  it  is 
posted  in  the  cars  of  his  road.  I  carry  it  with  me,  and 
exhibit  it  on  every  road  : 

" '  NOTICE. 

" '  Baggage-men  on  the  trains,  freight  as  well  as  passenger,  are 
expected  and  employed  by  the  Company  not  only  to  do  their  work 
well,  but  pleasantly,  and  to  give  every  facility  to  travellers  by  in- 
formation and  by  ACTS.  Any  departure  from  civility  of  conduct, 
and  that  courtesy  due  to  the  patrons  of  the  road,  will  render  them 
unfit  for  its  services,  and  they  will  be  dismissed  accordingly. 

"  '  Travellers  may  be  unreasonable,  but  that  will  be  considered  no 
excuse  for  any  employe  to  be  so  in  return. ' 

"  You  see  it  is  printed  in  large  type,  so  that  he  who 
rides  may  read.  The  result  is,  civility  and  polite  atten- 
tion to  every  want.  If  you  ask  a  conductor  a  question, 
he  does  not  throw  the  answer  over  his  shoulder  as  he 
moves  on,  but  replies  succinctly  and  intelligibly.  The 
brakemen  are  polite,  and  I  will  warrant  there  are  not 
many  trunks  thrown  end  over  end  on  that  road." 

"  What  a  charming  innovation  ?  "  said  the  tired  travel- 
ler. "  Perhaps  the  next  train  that  sweeps  from  the  north 
will  allow  us  half  an  hour  for  dinner." 

"  That  tempts  me  to  remark, '  said  the  doctor,  "  that 
many  persons  find  that  the  lunches  they  catch  at  railroad 


236 


THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE. 


stations,  or  which  they  carry  with  them  in  their  bags  or 
baskets,  give  them  headaches,  and  serve  as  very  poor  sub- 
stitutes for  warm  dinners  at  home.  It  is  probably  because 
they  are  made  up  so  largely  of  cake  or  pastry.  The  food 
is  too  concentrated,  has  not  enough  of  waste  matter  and 
fluid  about  it,  and  so  produces  constipation,  which  is  a 
sure  cause  of  a  dull  head  and  general  bodily  discomfort. 
The  vegetables  and  soups  we  eat  with  our  dinners  at  home 
are  valuable  for  their  waste  matter  as  well  as  for  their 
nutriment.  With  our  lunches  we  miss  these,  but  fruit  is 
still  better  for  those  whose  stomachs  are  healthy  enough  to 
eat  it  uncooked,  and  fruit  we  can  almost  always  have  with 
us.  For  a  substantial  lunch  to  take  from  home,  especially 
for  one  who  is  taking  active  exercise,  cold  chicken  is 
good,  or  cold  meat  cut  in  slices.  These,  laid  between 
buttered  slices  of  bread,  make  very  nice  sandwiches. 
Thin  biscuit  is  usually  more  acceptable  than  bread,  and  if 
cut  open,  spread  with  currant  jelly,  and  put  together 
again,  is  very  nice.  The  less  of  cake,  and  the  plainer 
that  little,  the  better  for  the  traveller's  comfort.  Fresh  soda 
crackers  and  fresh  apples  make  an  excellent  light  lunch  ; 
but  the  fine  flour  crackers  are  so  concentrated  that  it  is 
best  for  all  who  can  do  so  to  eat  the  accompanying  apples 
without  peeling  them.  A  simple  lunch  of  this  kind,  which 
you  can  buy  as  you  hasten  through  the  streets  to  the  depot, 
is  far  better  than  the  little  sweet  cakes  and  pastry  abomi- 
nations sold  at  stands  near  the  depot.  I  doubt  if  women, 
who  know  how  such  things  are  made,  are  often  caught  buy- 
ing them.  Figs  or  raisins  go  well  with  crackers  or  gems  ; 
but  fresh,  juicy  fruit  is  preferable  when  you  can  get  it." 

"  Here  are  a  few  hints  to  railway  travellers,"  said  the 
preacher,  "  that  I  have  written  down  in  my  Diary  : 

"  Do  not  travel  at  night  if  you  can  avoid  it. 


THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE. 


237 


"  Take  your  breakfast  always  before  starting  on  a  jour- 
ney. 

"  Keep  your  ticket  under  your  hat-band,  or  the  inner 
lining. 

"  If  an  open  window  proves  uncomfortable  to  another, 
you  will  close  it. 

"  Obtain  a  seat  near  the  aisle  and  near  the  centre  of 
the  car  and  near  the  centre  of  the  train. 

"  Never  stand  an  instant  on  any  car  platform. 

"  Purchase  nothing  whatever  to  eat  on  a  rail  train,  un- 
less it  is  a  simple  sandwich  to  be  eaten  at  noon. 

"  Don't  be  disturbed  if  you  find  the  best  seats  in  a  rail- 
road car  taken.  As  no  one  knew  you  were  coming,  of 
course  they  did  not  reserve  one. 

"When  a  car  is  crowded,  don't  fill  a  seat  with  your 
bundles.  True  politeness  is  not  amiss,  even  amidst  the 
confusion  and  bustle  of  a  public  conveyance. 

"  Avoid  conversation  while  the  cars  are  in  motion,  be- 
cause the  overstrain  of  the  voice  to  make  one  heard 
above  the  noise  of  the  wheels  has  been  such  that  in  many 
cases  there  has  been  such  tension  of  the  vocal  chords  as 
to  impair  the  voice  for  many  months. 

"All  reading  in  rail-cars  while  in  motion  is  injurious  ; 
but  the  injury  will  be  greatly  mitigated  by  reading  only  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  at  a  time,  and  for  the  next  five  minutes 
let  the  eyes  be  directed  to  very  distant  objects.  This  al- 
ternation from  things  near  to  those  remote  is  a  very  great 
relief  and  rest." 

"  That  reminds  me  again,"  followed  the  doctor. 
"  Most  if  not  all  who  read  on  railroads  are  sensible  of 
weight  and  weariness  about  the  eyes.  This  sensation  is 
accounted  for  on  high  medical  authority  by  the  fact  that  the 
exact  distance  between  the  eyes  and  the  paper  cannot  be 


238  THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE. 

maintained.  The  concussions  and  oscillations  of  the  train 
disturb  the  powers  of  vision,  and  variation,  however 
slight,  is  met  by  an  effort  at  accommodation  on  the  part 
of  the  eyes.  The  constant  exercise  of  so  delicate  an  or- 
gan produces  fatigue,  and  if  the  practice  of  railroad  read- 
ing is  persisted  in,  must  result  in  permanent  injury. 
Added  to  this  difficulty  is  bad  or  shifting  light.  The  safe 
and  prudent  mode  is  to  read  little  if  any.  The  deliber- 
ate finishing  of  volumes  in  railway  cars  is  highly  detri- 
mental. 

"  Sydney  Smith  complained  that,  in  travelling  from 
Exeter  to  London,  in  the  stage-coach,  he  was  subjected 
to  no  less  than  fifteen  thousand  jolts  ;  and  he  naively  asks 
if  such  jolting  could  be  good  for  a  man's  stomach.  Fifteen 
thousand  jolts  is  a  very  excellent  guess.  It  is  this  excessive 
jolting  which  plays  the  deuce  with  us  ;  and  whether  five 
or  fifteen  thousand  jolts  are  experienced  in  the  course  of 
a  journey,  we  still  suffer.  Hundreds  who  have  travelled 
long  distances,  feel  it  next  morning,  in  the  stiffness  and 
soreness  of  their  muscles,  a  soreness  and  stiffness  for 
which  they  cannot  account.  Just  consider  for  a  moment 
the  multiplicity  of  motions  which  accompany  a  railway 
carriage,  spinning  along  at,  say,  forty  miles  an  hour. 
There  is  a  lateral  motion ;  the  oscillation  of  the  wheels 
from  rail  to  rail ;  the  vertical  motion,,  varying  according 
to  the  fulness  of  the  car ;  then  there  is  a  diagonal  mo- 
tion, which  is  easily  perceived  if  we  watch  our  fellow- 
travellers  and  the  attitude  they  assume  to  preserve  them- 
selves against  the  impulse,  or  if  we  notice  the  direction 
which  a  loose  object  on  the  floor  invariably  takes.  An 
eminent  chemist  declares  that  he  counted  ninety  thousand 
motions  in  a  first-class  railway  carriage  from  Manchester 
to  London  ;  how  many  mor«  there  were,  he  didn't  reckon 


THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE.  2$9 

up.  Reflect  for  a  moment,  my  snowed-in  friend,  on  the 
infinite  concussions  the  frail  body  is  thus  subjected  to. 
This  shaking  up  of  the  system  is  by  no  means  healthy ; 
nor  does  the  evil  stop  here.  To  balance  one's  self,  to 
counteract,  of  at  least  to  endeavor  to  counteract,  the  ef- 
fect of  the  jolting  and  jerking  of  the  lateral,  vertical, 
diagonal,  and  impelling  motion,  the  muscles  of  the  whole 
body  are  strained.  If  we  make  an  effort  to  keep  our 
equilibrium,  we  are  flopped  to  and  fro,  backward  and 
forward,  like  a  doll  in  a  child's  arms." 

"  Ah  !  "  sighed  the  "  snowed-in  friend,"  "  one  sighs  to 
be  a  pig,  when  one  thinks  of  the  Berg  Hog  Palace  Car. 
When  the  swine  wish  to  slumber,  they  blow  a  whistle  made 
from  the  tail  of  a  brother  who  has  gone  before,  the  con- 
ductors enter  and  conduct  them  to  a  hot  Russian  bath 
in  the  rear  end  of  the  car,  after  which  they  are  rubbed 
down  with  rough  towels,  a  lunch  of  old  boots  and  ice 
cream  furnished.  Not  a  squeal  is  ever  heard  on  these 
cars,  nothing  but  grunts  of  satisfaction,  and  a  skilled 
musician  puts  in  from  eighteen  to  twenty  four  hours  a  day, 
playing  on  a  cottage  organ,  and  singing  such  ballads  as 
the  '  Ham  Fat  Man,'  '  The  Watch  on  the  Rhine,'  '  When 
the  Pigs  Come  Home,'  etc.,  etc.  In  fact,  life  is  one  per- 
petual holiday  on  the  hog  trains  until  they  arrive  within 
a  few  miles  of  Jersey  City,  when  the  train  is  stopped,  a 
steam  fire-engine  throws  a  stream  of  chloroform  into 
each  car,  and  the  inmates  sink  into  a  slumber  from  which 
they  do  not  awaken  in  this  world  of  trichinae,  butcher- 
knives,  smoked  ham,  head-cheese,  and  death." 

"  How  well  the  time-tables  of  this  year  compare  with 
the  following  programme  of  a  hundred  years  ago  !  I  cut 
it  out  of  Stewart's  almanac  for  1769. 

" '  The  stage -wagons  kept  by  John    Barnhill   at   the 


240 


THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE. 


Golden-ball  perform  the  journey  from  Philadelphia  to 
New  York  in  two  days.  They  set  off  from  Philadelphia 
and  New  York  on  Mondays  and  Thursdays  punctually  at 
sunrise,  and  change  their  passengers  at  Prince-Town,  and 
return  to  Philadelphia  and  New  York  on  the  following 
days,  passengers  paying  ten  shillings  to  Prince-Town  and 
ten  shilling  to  Powle's  Hook,  opposite  N.  York,  ferriage 
free.' " 

"We're  making  about  the  same  time,  now,"  said  the' 
consumptive  traveller.  "  Ugh  !  how  cold  it  gets  ;  express- 
man, fix  up  the  fire  !  " 

"There  was  some  excuse  for  ladies'  cars  during  the 
war,"  said  the  colonel,  "  but  now  there  is  certainly  none, 
when  all  pay  the  same  price  for  passage.  Under  the 
lock-car  rule,  all  other  cars  are  virtually  smoking  cars. 
There  are  many  gentlemen  who  travel,  to  whom  tobacco- 
smoke  is  extremely  obnoxious,  and  yet  these  young  men 
are  held  prisoners  in  these  smoking  cars.  If  any  car  is 
to  be  locked,  let  it  be  the  smoking  car,  and  put  all  the 
other  passengers  on  their  good  behavior.  If  a  man  will 
smoke,  let  him  go  into  the  smoking  car.  If  a  man  will 
chew,  squirt  his  tobacco  juice  about  the  car,  and  soil 
ladies'  dresses,  let  him  be  sent  to  the  smoking  car.  Be- 
cause an  inveterate  chewer  and  squirter  of  tobacco  has 
his  wife  with  him,  it  does  not  follow  that  he  should  have 
any  better  right  to  the  ladies'  car  than  a  well-bred  gen- 
tleman who  travels  singly.  Gentlemen,  take  off  your 
locks  and  put  your  passengers  on  good  behavior." 

"  That  reminds  me  of  a  case,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  that 
recently  came  into  my  hands.  A  few  months  ago,  a 
man  recovered  heavy  damages  of  a  Western  railroad 
company,  in  consequence  of  having  been  violently 
ejected  from  a  ladies'  car,  so  called,  in  which  he  had  the 
audacity  to  take  a  seat,  though  unaccompanied  by  a  lady. 


THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE.  241 

The  result  of  this  suit  probably  encouraged  Mr.  B.  H. 
Rugg,  my  client.  He  had  purchased  a  ticket  for  the 
Cincinnati  &  Muskingum  Railroad,  and  insisted  upon  tak- 
ing a  seat  in  a  first-class  car,  instead  of  contenting  him- 
self with  the  accommodations  afforded  by  a  mean  and 
dirty  one  filled  with  tobacco  smoke,  into  which  he  was 
ordered  by  those  in  charge  of  the  train.  For  his  effron- 
tery, he  was  promptly  put  off  the  train  by  the  conduc- 
tor, and  now  brings  suit  against  the  Company  for  $5,000 
damages.  I  hope  and  trust  that  we  shall  recover  the  full 
amount  claimed.  Resistance  to,  the  tyranny  of  railroad 
understrappers  is  so  infrequent,  that  when  displayed,  it 
merits  the  warmest  encouragement." 

"  I  see  that  one  man's  injuries  are  worth  more  than 
another's,"  said  the  judge.  "  In  a  recent  trial  in  Massa- 
chusetts, for  damages  to  the  person  in  a  railway  collision, 
the  jury  were  instructed  to  consider,  in  awarding  the 
plaintiff  damages  for  permanent  injuries  :  his  health  for 
the  period  of  life  thus  far  spent ;  to  take  him  as  he  had 
stood  with  all  his  accomplishments,  professional,  intel- 
lectual, and  other,  and  to  say  what  diminution  the  injury 
has  produced  in  them,  and  to  give  him  compensation 
therefor,  in  dollars  and  cents.  The  plaintiff  was  a  Dr. 
Breck,  of  Springfield,  a  physician  in  large  practice,  and 
of  remarkable  powers  of  endurance.  The  jury  awarded 
him  $10,000.  He  claimed  $40,000.  This  is  a  small 
measure  of  damages  for  such  injuries  as  would  incapaci- 
tate a  physician  from  doing  more  than  a  fraction  of  his 
former  work,  but  the  point  was  clearly  settled  that  one 
man's  injuries  are  worth  more  than  another's." 

At  this  juncture,  the  conductor  brought  a  message  from 
the  ladies,  asking  the  judge  and  our  lawyer  to  step  into 
the  dining  car  and  settle  a  dispute.  The  gallant  gentle- 
11 


242  THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE. 

men  went  at  once,  for  both  had  wives  among  the  merry 
party.  It  transpired  that  the  ladies  had  been  discussing 
the  subject  of  railway  accidents,  and  the  possibility  of 
making  a  railway  company  pay  for  the  loss  of  a  lady's 
wardrobe,  lost  or  ruined  in  a  railway  collision. 

The  legal  gentlemen  decided  that  the  case  was  quite 
clear,  the  lawyer  citing  a  suit  in  point : 

"Mrs.  Dorothy  Rawson  sued  the  Pennsylvania  Rail- 
road, and  recovered  $4,000,  for  her  baggage,  personal 
ornaments,  wearing  apparel,  etc.,  a  large  part  of  which 
were  gifts  from  her  husband.  The  railway  company 
made  a  defence  on  two  points  : 

"  •  That  her  husband  and  not  she  was  the  proper  per- 
son to  sue. 

"  '  2.  That  the  company  had  made  a  condition  in  the 
ticket  that  they  would  not  be  liable  for  more  than  Si 00.' 

"The  Court  overruled  both  points,  and  decided  in 
favor  of  Mrs.  Rawson.  No  two  principles  of  law  are 
more  clear  than  those  upon  which  this  decision  was 
based.  I  give  them  for  the  benefit  of  those  people  who 
are  not  lawyers,  but  who  are  much  imposed  upon  in  this 
direction  : 

"  '  1.  The  jewels,  ornaments,  and  wearing  apparel  of  a 
woman  are  what  the  common  law  calls  her  parapher- 
nalia, and  are  held  to  be  her  own  against  all  the  world. 
It  would  be  hard  if  a  married  woman  could  not  own  some 
personal  property  of  her  own,  even  against  her  husband. 
So  the  common  law  holds  that  the  dress  and  ornaments 
of  a  woman,  however  valuable  they  be,  though  one 
should  be  the  Koh-i-noor  diamond,  are  sacred  to  herself. 
The  attorneys  for  Mrs.  Rawson,  therefore,  judged  rightly 
when  they  brought  the  suit  in  her  name.  It  was  herself 
and  nobody  else  who  was  injured.  Now  to  understand  a 
little  more  of  this :  the  reader  who  is  not  a  lawyer  should 
know  that  by  the  common  law  the  personal  property  of 


THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE.  243 

the  wife  becomes  the  husband's.  It  was  on  this  ground 
that  the  attorney  for  the  defendant  (the  Pennsylvania 
Railroad  Company)  resisted  the  right  of  Mrs.  Rawson  to 
sue.  But  they  were  mistaken  in  this.  The  parapher- 
nalia of  a  wife  (her  dress  and  ornaments)  belong  to  herself 
alone. 

"  '  2.  The  Pennsylvania  Railroad  Company  undertook 
to  limit  their  responsibility  as  common  carriers,  by 
stating  that  they  had  given  notice  that  they  would  not  be 
responsible  for  more  than  $100.  What  did  that  notice 
amount  to?  Nothing.  And  why?  Because  the  Penn- 
sylvania Railroad  Company  are  common  carriers,  and 
they  cannot  avoid  their  obligations  by  any  act  of  their 
own.  This  is  something  all  travellers  ought  to  know,  for 
railroads,  steamboats,  stages,  all  common  carriers,  are  try- 
ing to  avoid  their  responsibility  by  notices  of  this  sort. 
It  cannot  be  done ;  for  as  they  undertake  to  carry  persons 
and  freights  for  hire,  the  law  makes  them  responsible  for 
damages,  and  they  cannot  avoid  it.' " 

"  How  impatiently  we  take  all  railroad  delays,"  re- 
marked the  preacher  to  the  timid  traveller.  "  No  matter 
what  may  be  the  cause,  no  difference  how  well  conducted 
the  road,  we  fret  and  work  ourselves  into  a  fever  of  ridi- 
cule, coarse  jests,  and  untimely  remarks  of  all  kinds,  for 
the  gratification  of  ourselves  and  other  belated  travellers. 
Or,  if  given  to  the  poetical,  we  pencil  our  vitupera- 
tions upon  the  walls  of  depots,  and  immortalize  our  sar- 
casm. The  Bungtown  Railway  Company  may  run 
twenty  daily  trains  over  a  single  track  of  two  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  in  length ;  they  may  have  to  wait  at  some 
meeting  point  for  delayed  passenger  trains,  detained  on 
any  part  of  the  route  from  New  York  City,  a  trip  of 
twelve  hundred  miles,  and  by  any  of  the  mishaps  that 
may  arise  in  any  business.  It  may  be  that  some  parts  of 
the  track  have  become  suddenly  unsafe  for  the  usual  rate 
of  speed,  or  the  thermometer  sinks  to  15  degrees  below 


244 


THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE. 


zero,  during  a  night  trip ;  or  some  part  of  the  machinery 
gets  out  of  order,  as  even  stationary  machinery  will  do ; 
or  perhaps  some  accident,  more  or  less  serious,  has  oc- 
curred, through  the  universal  anxiety  among  people  and 
railroad  companies  to  brook  no  delays  or  tardiness.  All 
this  makes  but  little  difference  to  our  fretful,  selfish 
selves,  if  we  have  made  up  our  minds  to  go  somewhere 
1  on  time.'  We  curse  the  road  and  the  officers,  the  en- 
gine and  route. 

"  A  few  years  ago,  we  could  ride  seven  hours  over  the 
worst  of  roads  in  a  cold,  wintry  day,  with  cold  feet, 
bumped  about  in  an  old  lumber  wagon  or  a  stage-hack, 
glad  to  reach  the  railroad,  and  were  comparatively  satis- 
fied with  such  locomotion.  Now  we  can't  wait  the  fourth 
part  of  that  time  in  a  comfortable  depot-house,  without 
showing  our  pertness  or  irascibility." 

"Yes!"  responded  the  timid  traveller;  "but  if  that 
old  stage-hack  had  stalled  for  a  day  in  the  snow,  within 
twenty  miles  of  that  railroad  and  comfort,  what  then  ?  " 

"  When  I  took  up  this  line  of  march,"  said  the  colonel, 
"  the  newspaper  batteries  all  along  the  line  of  the  Ohio 
and  Mississippi  Railway,  from  St.  Louis  to  Cincinnati, 
were  belching  forth  their  editorial  fire,  composed  of 
squibs  and  diminutive  thunder,  at  that  corporation,  for 
not  renewing  the  passes  of  editors.  Every  paper  we 
bought  of  the  train-boys  had  its  load.  But  strange  to 
say  the  trains  went  on  as  usual,  apparently  unawed  by 
the  terrific  cannonade  of  harmless  shot  and  shell.  I  went 
over  the  same  road  the  year  before,  and  found  that  the 
line,  with  all  its  officers  and  men,  were  perfection  with 
this  very  class  of  editors.  The  papers  we  bought  on  the 
road  then  slopped  over  with  puffing  and  praise.  But 
since  the  first  of  a  certain  January,  these  gentlemen  lack 


THE  SNO W  BLO CKADE.  245 

all  the  essentials  of  conducting  a  popular  railway.  The 
Ohio  and  Mississippi  Road  has  never  been  a  paying  con- 
cern, and  if  the  management,  for  the  sake  of  economy, 
saw  fit  to  change  their  regulations,  they  had  a  right  to  do 
so.  As  far  as  I  was  able  to  judge,  most  of  the  officers 
and  conductors  of  that  year  have  been  retained,  and  they 
manifest  a  most  courteous  and  obliging  spirit.  In  fact, 
Miles,  Fields,  Wise,  and  all  their  colleagues,  are  models 
of  what  a  conductor  should  be,  and  I  doubt  if  their  su- 
periors can  be  found.  I  mention  it  because  it  is  the  first 
instance  that  has  come  under  my  notice,  of  a  railway 
corporation  aiming  a  blow  at  the  dead-head  system,  which, 
born  of  courtesy,  has  developed  into  a  disgraceful  abuse." 

"  There  is  a  prospect  now  of  being  rid  of  another  nui- 
sance," rejoined  the  judge.  "  By  an  act  of  Congress 
passed  at  the  last  session,  'train-boys'  on  railway  cars 
are  not  permitted  to  continue  the  avocation  of  vending 
cigars  to  passengers,  unless  they  take  out  a  pedler's  li- 
cense, and  give  bonds  in  $200,000  to  the  Government. 
The  authorities  have  already  proceeded  to  take  cogni- 
zance of  any  cases  that  may  come  to  their  notice." 

"  I  wish  they  could  be  abolished  altogether,"  said  the 
timid  traveller — "  I  mean  the  rascally  train-boys." 

"  The  stuff  they  sell  is  rank  poison,"  added  the  con- 
sumptive. 

"There  is  a  new  swindle  out,"  said  the  doctor,  "and 
as  we  have  a  reporter  on  board,  perhaps  he  will  give  it 
as  a  warning  to  the  travelling  public.  This  swindle  takes 
the  form  of  a  lady,  tall,  interesting,  refined  in  manners, 
and  not  younger  than  thirty.  She  dresses  in  the  deepest 
mourning,  and  passes  as  a  widow  of  a  clergyman." 

"  Lord  forgive  her,"  interrupted  the  preacher. 

"  She  frequents  cars,  hotels,  and  depots,  and  her  game 


246  THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE. 

consists  in  feigning  great  distress,  and  the  loss  of  pocket- 
book  or  railway  ticket,  and  solicits  aid  from  travellers  to 
defray  her  expenses  to  her  destination.  She  obtains  many 
loans,  some  gifts,  and  the  proceeds  of  her  eloquent  ap- 
peals doubtless  amount  to  a  generous  sum  each  day." 

"Well,"  said  the  lawyer,  "this  is  an  age  of  progres- 
sion, and  woman  must  needs  show  her  equality  with  man, 
no  less  in  rascality  than  in  honor  and  uprightness." 

"  There  is  a  station  on  the  Erie  Road,  in  New  Jersey," 
said  the  merchant,  "called  Sufferns.  It  is  a  suburban 
station,  the  home  of  many  a  city  merchant.  A  reasona- 
ble walk  from  the  villages  of  the  valley,  you  will  find  an 
American  community,  with  nearly  the  least  possible  that 
is  human,  save  the  form  ;  without  civilization  or  organi- 
zation of  the  lowest  order,  even  as  much  as  gypsies ; 
without  art  above  the  art  of  savages — hunting,  charcoal- 
burning,  and  making  baskets,  wooden  brooms,  and  the 
like.  They  are  without  hope,  or  enterprise,  or  industry 
for  anything  better  or  beyond  the  instant  demands  of  the 
animal  nature.  Without  a  line  of  the  simplest  literature, 
or  the  least  idea  of  written  language  or  numerals  ;  with- 
out a  trace  of  the  Bible,  of  Christianity,  or  of  any  sort 
of  religion  or  deity ;  nay,  almost  without  language,  their 
patois  being  so  scanty  as  well  as  disorganized,  that  only 
the  commonest  of  facts  are  communicated  by  it,  and  those 
with  difficulty.  There  is,  of  course,  nothing  worthy  the 
name  of  marriage  or  family  among  them.  Three  sur- 
names, it  is  said,  suffice  for  three-quarters  of  the  race. 
Their  bearing  is  abject  and  spiritless,  their  faces  stolid, 
their  glances  furtive,  and  their  conduct  timorous.  No- 
body knows  or  cares  how  they  live,  how  they  are  born,  or 
by  what  means  they  die,  or  how  they  are  buried,  in  their 
savage  isolation." 


THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE. 


247 


"  Do  not  our  missionaries  go  among  them  ? "  asked 
the  preacher. 

"No,"  the  merchant  replied,  "  they  are  too  near  home, 
too  near  civilization,  and  besides,  they  make  their  own 
flannel  underwear,  and  have  no  use  for  bandanna  hand- 
kerchiefs. Distance,  you  know,  lends  enchantment  to 
the  missionary's  views." 

"Too  true ;  we  have  neglected  heathen  all  about  us." 

"  If  your  friend  is  travelling  abroad,"  began  the  judge, 
"send  him  a  copy  of  Mr.  McElrath's  letter.  Mr.  McEl- 
rath  is  the  appraiser,  you  know,  or  was,  and  his  letter  is 
a  manifesto  to  ten  thousand  Americans.  He  tells  the 
travelling  and  travelled  American  that  he  knows  what  the 
law  is,  and  that  it  shall  be  enforced.  Mr.  McElrath  is 
quite  clear  upon  that  point  indeed. 

"  No  traveller  in  Europe  will  deny,  that  the  inspection 
of  his  personal  luggage  by  the  custom-house  officers  at 
every  frontier,  was  one  of  the  chief  annoyances  of  his 
journey.  It  has  been  some  little  time  since  I  made  the 
grand  tour,  but  I  remember  this  very  well.  Upon  reach- 
ing the  Austrian  line,  as  I  approached  Salzburg,  I  had  a 
slight  difference  of  opinion  with  the  royal  imperial  inspec- 
tor, whom  I  conceived  to  be  a  royal  imperial  ass  !  He 
fumbled  long  and  earnestly  and  vexatiously,  in  a  very 
small  travelling-bag,  to  find  contraband  articles.  During 
this  official  search,  he  ingeniously  contrived  to  disturb  the 
cork  of  a  modest  bottle  of  ink,  which  consequently  be- 
dewed all  the  contents  of  the  bag.  The  veterans  of 
travel  at  that  day,  admonished  by  much  sad  experience, 
always  declared  that  their  shaving-soap  and  slippers  con- 
tained nothing  contraband,  and  displayed  a  five-franc 
piece  as  conclusive  evidence,  which  was  alwavs  accepted 
as  proof.     It  is  a  misfortune,  certainly,  that  this  relic  of 


248  THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE. 

barbarism  continued  so  long  as  a  part  of  our  own  practice, 
and  that  the  American  who  used  to  swear  at  this  vexation 
all  through  Europe,  returns  to  encounter  it  in  its  worst 
form  at  his  own  door. 

"  Still  Mr.  McElrath,  the  appraiser,  is  perfectly  right. 
It  is  a  law  of  the  land,  and  he  properly  insists  upon  exe- 
cuting it.  He  probably  knows  as  well  as  anybody  that 
the  surest  way  of  getting  a  bad  law  changed  is  to  insist 
upon  executing  it  to  the  rigorous  letter.  He  very  justly 
will  not  wink  at  its  evasion ;  and  as  the  travelling  mem- 
bers of  the  human  family  seem  to  suppose  that  there  is 
no  harm  in  smuggling,  and  that  the  detective  officer  of 
the  customs  cannot  be  really  in  earnest,  the  appraiser  is- 
sued a  letter  in  which  he  defines  the  requirements  of  the 
law  in  the  matter  of  personal  luggage,  and  informs  whom- 
soever it  may  concern  that  if  they  wish  to  avoid  deten- 
tion and  trouble,  they  will  not  try  to  smuggle  silks  and 
woollens  partially  shaped  into  clothes  under  the  name  of 
wearing  apparel.  This  is  horribly  vexatious,  but  if  the 
free  and  enlightened  American  does  not  like  it  he  must 
change  the  law.  He  cannot  fairly  complain  of  his  own 
action.  The  appraiser  is  his  officer  executing  his  will. 
The  account  of  dissatisfaction  is  to  be  settled  with  him- 
self, not  with  the  appraiser. 

"  The  appraiser  expected  that  ten  thousand  persons 
would  return  to  the  United  States  that  year,  bringing 
with  them  various  articles,  such  as  new  clothes  and  fancy 
goods,  worth  two  millions  of  dollars,  the  regular  duties 
upon  which  would  amount  to  about  one  million.  To  the 
ten  thousand  Americans  about  to  retreat,  he  desired  to 
say  '  beforehand,  that  every  dollar  of  these  duties  will  be 
exacted,  and  must  be  paid  before  their  trunks  and  pack- 
ages can  get  through  the  hands  of  the  customs  officers.' 


THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE. 


249 


"The  ten  thousand  might  bring  their  combs  and 
brushes  if  in  actual  use :  their  fine-cut  tobacco,  if  it  had 
been  once  chewed ;  their  coats  and  trousers  partially 
worn ;  their  professional  books  and  tools  of  trade,  not 
machinery ;  also  pictures  and  statues  by  American  ar- 
tists abroad  ;  also  jewelry  when  worn,  and  evidently  in- 
tended to  be  worn  by  the  bearers ;  also  one  pair  of  slip- 
pers if  well  down  at  the  heel ;  also  household  plate  and 
effects  if  they  have  been  in  use  one  year  abroad.  Every- 
thing else  was  to  be  carefully  stated  in  writing  by  the  ten 
thousand,  and  upon  their  arrival  the  duties,  amounting 
to  about  fifty  per  cent.,  would  be  levied.  The  duties 
must  then  and  there  be  paid,  and  every  one  of  the  noble 
army  could  step  proudly  ashore  upon  the  land  of  the  free 
and  the  home  of  the  brave. 

"  I  give  this  to  the  reporter,  because  I  see  by  the  pa- 
pers that  we  are  on  the  eve  of  an  important  Presidential 
campaign.  Mr.  McElrath's  letter  is  one  of  the  most 
powerful  free-trade  documents  that  I  have  seen. 

"  One  of  the  principal  hotel  nuisances  in  America  and 
elsewhere,  is,  that  no  one  on  entering  an  establishment 
knows  what  will  be  the  amount  of  his  bill,  until  he  leaves 
it,  or  what  are  his  privileges  while  there.  It  is  rarely 
found  that  the  bill  tallies  with  the  notices  tacked  up  so 
modestly  behind  doors ;  and  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  hotel 
proprietors  do  not  expose  a  more  satisfactory  prospec- 
tus in  some  conspicuous  place.  I  have  a  sample  here, 
which  I  found  in  the  entrance-way  of  a  hotel  at  Lahore, 
East  India : 

" '  Gentlemen  who   come  in  hotel  not  say  anything 
about  their  meals  they  will  be  charged  for  and  if  they 
should  say  beforehand  that  they  are  going  out  to  break- 
fast or  dinner,  etc.,  are  if  they  say  that  they  have  not 
11* 


250  THE  SNOW  BLOCKADE. 

anything  to  eat  they  will  not  be  charged,  and  if  not  so, 
they  will  be  charged,  or  unless  they  bring  it  to  the  notice 
of  the  manager  of  the  place,  and  should  they  want  to  say 
anything,  they  must  order  the  manager  for  and  not  any 
one  else,  and  unless  they  bring  it  to  the  notice  of  the 
manager,  they  will  be  charge  for  the  least  things  accord- 
ing to  hotel  rate,  and  no  fuss  will  be  allowed  afterward 
about  it.  Should  any  gentleman  take  wall  lamp  or  can- 
dle light  from  the  public  rooms  they  must  pay  for  it  with- 
out any  dispute  its  charges.  Monthly  gentlemens  will 
have  to  pay  my  fixed  rate  made  with  them  at  the  time, 
and  should  they  absent  day  in  the  month  they  will  not  be 
allowed  to  deduct  anything  out  of  it,  because  I  take  from 
them  less  rate  than  my  usual  rate  of  monthly  charges.'  " 

The  conductor,  who  had  reported  progress  from  time 
to  time,  now  entered  with  the  welcome  intelligence  that 
in  an  hour  the  track  would  be  clear. 


S^^BSsbs  5BSS5 


XXIII. 

THE  COLOSSUS   OF    ROADS. 

UCK  NORTON  was  a  cripple, 
Of  two  off  toes  bereft, 
A  twelve-foot  leap  had  fix'd  him, 
With  just  his  right  foot  left. 
That  is,  his  south  foot  yielded 

To  a  bender  up  above, 
All  through  a  bigger  bender, 
That  time  at  "  Mickey's  Cove." 


You're  mightly  right  in  that,  sir, 

Was  never  known  to  flinch  ; 
Lost  half  a  foot  at  Mickey's, 

But  never  gave  an  inch. 
He  spread  some  when  he  hobbled, 

Was  loose,  when  he  got  tight, 
But  once  upon  the  foot-board, 

That  left  foot  came  out  right. 

He  likes  to  tell  the  story, 

For  he's  heavy  on  the  stump  ; 

And  jokes  about  mementos 
Of  that  rather  famous  jump. 


252 


THE   COLOSSUS  OF  ROADS. 

How  he  engineer'd  it  thro',  sir, 

And  liked  to  kick  the  pail ; 
When  his  right  foot  got  in  limbo, 

And  his  left  foot  gave  leg  bail. 
No  flag  was  swung  at  Mickey's^ 

And  the  freight  was  coming  blind  ; 
He  put  his  best  foot  for'ard, 

And  came  out  a  foot  behind. 

When  the  toes  began  to  heel,  sir, 

He  put  that  best  foot  down, 
And  swore  they'd  keep  on  workin', 

Wherever  they  were  thrown. 
For  no  lazy  bones  were  ever 

Known  to  hang  about  his  train  ; 
And  dead  broke  as  now  they  were,  sir, 

They  would  live  somehow  again. 

His  left  knee  somehow  weakened 

When  he  tried  to  say  his  prayers ; 
And  the  other  out  of  practice, 

So  he  stopped  them  for  repairs. 
Since  they  fell  out  there  at  Mickey's, 

They  don't  fall  in  quite  so  strong ; 
The  left  seems  short  of  feeling, 

And  the  right  feels  much  too  long. 

Not  on  his  last  legs  yet,  sir, 

Though  his  rivals  tried  a  ruse ; 
Gave  out  that  he  was  dying, 

Just  to  fill  Buck  Norton's  shoes. 
They  put  their  own  foot  in  it, 

For  Hammond  said  to  Moore : 
"  There's  more  behind  his  nozzle, 

Than  there  ever  was  before." 

With  one  foot  on  his  engine, 
And  the  other  on  the  land, 

We'll  call  him  our  Colossus 
Of  Roads — you  understand  ? 


THE   COLOSSUS   OF  ROADS. 


253 


To  foot  it  up,  our  cripple 
Stands  high,  as  well  he  may : 

His  engine  draws  like  "  60," 
And  Norton  draws  big  pay. 


XXIV. 


FIVE    MINUTES   BEHIND. 


A  switchman's  story. 


ROUGH  cabin  of  logs  in  the  midst  of  dense 
woods,  and  shut  in  by  the  precipitous  crests  of 
rocky  hills.  No  neighbors,  save  at  the  red  farm- 
house some  few  miles  in  the  valley  below.  It 
was  only  on  the  clearest  days  that  I  could  see  the  dim 
wreath  of  smoke  curling  up  from  the  Wycliffe  chimneys. 
I  had  been  struggling  to  ward  off  the  iron  grasp  of 
poverty,  and  here  was  employment  ready  to  my  hand. 
Why  should  I  mind  the  solitude  ? 

John  Walker  had  also  applied  for  the  situation  of 
switchman  at  Branhill  Station.  Rumor  had  it,  that  pretty 
Barbara  Wycliffe  had  herself  gone  in  to  headquarters, 
and  used  her  influence  in  Walker's  behalf.  I  had  been 
taken  with  the  girl  myself.  There  was  something  in  the 
tropic  glow  of  her  dark  Spanish  beauty,  and  the  sparkle 
of  her  brown  eyes,  that  was  strangely  attractive  to  me. 
Walker  was  a  sullen,  reticent  fellow,  with  a  bad  look  out 
of  his  eye,  and  somehow  I  didn't  like  the  idea  of  her  be- 
coming his  wife.  True,  they  said  she  had — but  who 
cares  what  they  said  ? 


FIVE  MINUTES  BEHIND. 


255 


The  sun  was  creeping  slowly  up  the  leafless  woods  and 
sombre  stretches  of  black-green  pines  that  covered  the 
eastern  hill  one  sparkling  March  afternoon,  as  I  came 
leisurely  in  after  half  an  hour's  brisk  work  at  wood-cut- 
ting down  in  the  hollow.  The  instant  I  entered  I  be- 
came conscious,  by  that  peculiar  magnetic  influence 
which  all  have  experienced,  of  the  presence  of  some  one 
else  in  the  little  apartment.  Nor  was  I  mistaken.  John 
Walker  was  lounging  in  the  rocking-chair  by  the  one  win- 
dow, reading  a  week-old  newspaper. 

"  Halloo,  Walker !  how  came  you  here  ?  " 

"  Through  the  back-door.  I've  just  strolled  up  from 
Wycliffe's.     And  how  are  you  getting  along,  old  fellow  ?  " 

"  Oh,  first-rate.     What  are  you  doing  ?  " 

"  Nothing  just  at  present.  I  am  looking  for  a  place 
on  the  E Road  as  brakeman  until  something  bet- 
ter turns  up.  Upon  my  word  you've  got  things  pretty 
snug  here,  Reuben.  Does  the  Company  give  you  the 
place  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Comfortable,  though  not  gorgeous,"  he  said,  looking 
carelessly  around.  "Nice  warm  walls,  chimney,  big 
enough  to  roast  an  ox — two,  if  you  want  'em — furniture 
neat — clock  on  the  shelf — what's  that  for,  eh  ?  " 

I  smiled  as  I  confessed  the  clock's  utility. 

"  Not  having  yet  attained  the  dignity  of  a  watch,  I  de- 
pend on  a  clock  to  inform  me  of  the  time." 

"  Ah,  that's  it !     Switches  changed  often  ?  " 

"  Twice  a  day,  when  the  down  Lightning  meets  the  up 
Accommodation,  on  the  Branch,  and  the  Way  Mail  on 
the  Branch  leaves  the  main  track." 

"Late?" 

What  a  lounging,  indolent  sort  of  way  he  had,  as  he  put 


256  FIVE  MINUTES  BEHIND. 

the  questions  indifferently  to  me  !  I  looked  rather  sul- 
lenly at  him,  but  he  was  not  at  all  disturbed  by  my  gaze. 

"  Well,  yes,  late  and  early.  Nine  in  the  morning  for 
the  Branch,  seven  in  the  evening  for  the  Lightning." 

"  Pretty  easy  life  of  it,  Eyre  ?  " 

"  Not  hard,  only  one  has  to  be  prompt." 

"  Yes — yes,  to  be  sure.  Seen  much  of  old  Wycliffe's 
folks  here,  eh  ?  " 

"  Occasionally." 

"  Well,  I'm  off;  if  I  go  on  the  E Road,  don't  make 

love  to  Barbara ! " 

During  all  this,  his  cold  gray  eyes  wandered  uneasily 
about  the  apartment,  and  he  never  once  looked  at  me 
with  the  frank,  fearless  gaze  that  is  most  appropriate  be- 
tween man  and  man.  It  was  a  forced  smile  that  met  his 
last  remark,  and  I  could  have  knocked  the  coarse  jester 
down. 

The  next  day  was  one  of  those  brilliant  bits  of  sunshine 
and  brightness,  that  occasionally  diversify  the  early  weeks 
of  our  Northern  spring.  I  had  been  down  in  the  woods 
piling  up  the  logs  I  had  cut  the  day  before,  and  on  re- 
turning up  the  narrow  path,  I  saw  the  light  flutter  of  a 
scarlet  shawl  cross  the  window  of  my  little  dwelling  from 
the  inside. 

"More  company,"  I  thought,  with  a  quick,  electric 
bound  at  my  heart ;  for  I  knew  there  was  but  one  wo- 
man for  miles  around  who  would  be  likely  to  visit  me, 
and  then,  besides,  Barbara  Wycliffe's  sweet  eyes  were 
like  lodestars  to  me,  and  I  felt  it  must  be  her.  I  sprang 
up  the  slope  with  a  movement  as  light  as  my  heart,  and 
entered  at  the  wide-open  door. 

"Barbara,"  said  I,  holding  out  both  my  hands,  "this 
is  an  unexpected  pleasure." 


FIVE  MINUTES  BEHIND. 


2S7 


She  had  been  crimson  when  my  footstep  first  sounded 
on  the  threshold;  now  she  turned  deadly  pale,  with  a 
whiteness  that  startled  me. 

"  Oh,  is  it  you,  Reuben — Mr.  Eyre  ?  I'm  so  glad  you 
have  come.  I — I — "  She  stammered  and  stuttered  pain- 
fully, and  was  much  confused.  "I — I  was  looking  for 
our  stray  guinea-fowls  in  the  woods  above,  and  I  went 
farther  than  I  had  any  idea  of.  I  was  very  tired,  and  I 
thought  I  would  stop  in  a  minute  and  rest." 

"Arid  you  are  as  welcome  as  flowers  in  May,  Barbara; 
but  you  know  you  are." 

For  she  had  smiled  up  in  my  face  with  an  arch,  half- 
doubtful  look.  There  was  no  question  of  absent  color 
now ;  her  cheeks  glowed  like — like — like  the  velvet 
petals  of  a  "  Giant  of  Battles  "  rose,  I  suppose  the  poets 
would  say ;  but  I  thought  of  the  red  glare  of  the  locomo- 
tive's head-light,  which  was  always  beautiful  to  me. 

"And  did  you  find  the  runaways  ? " 

"No.  I  think  they  must  be  down  in  the  maple 
swamp.  I  shall  look  for  them  there  to-morrow.  But, 
Mr.  Eyre,  I  wanted  to  say,  besides — "  She  hesitated 
and  hung  down  her  head. 

"  Well,  Barbara,  what  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  convulsively.  "  I  don't  know 
what.     But  I  came  to — to  warn  you — " 

Again  the  deathly  pallor  came  over  her  face.  There 
was  a  strange,  startled  look  in  her  brown  eyes. 

"  Warn  me,  Barbara  !     Of  what  ?  " 

"  Of  him — of  that  man — John  Walker." 

I  had  felt,  when  she  said  she  came  to  warn  me,  that  it 
was  of  that  man.  She  was  surprised  that  I  was  not 
startled,  and  asked  me,  hurriedly  : 

"  What  was  he  doing  here,  to-day,  Reuben  ?  " 


258  FIVE  MINUTES  BEHIND. 

I  did  look  at  her  in  astonishment  this  time. 

"  Has  he  been  here  to-day,  Barbara?  You  are  think- 
ing of  yesterday  evening  ?  "  I  suggested. 

"  No,  I  am  not,"  she  answered,  impetuously.  "  I  am 
not  thinking  of  yesterday  evening.  I  mean  to-day ;  not 
an  hour  ago." 

"What  makes  you  think  he  was  here,  Barbara?" 

"  Because  I  saw  him ;  because  I — I  followed  him.  I 
know  he  was  bent  on  mischief,  and  mischief  against 
you." 

I  shook  my  head  doubtfully. 

"Are  you  quite  sure  you  are  not  mistaken  ?  For  if  he 
had  been  here,  would  he  not  have  stayed  to  see  me? 
When  did  you  see  him  here,  and  where  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you  it  was  but  a  little  while  ago.  He  means 
you  mischief,  Reuben ;  be  sure  of  that.  I  saw  him  put  a 
large  knife  in  his  breast,  as  he  left  the  house,  and  I  fol- 
lowed him — followed  him  until  I  saw  him  reach  the  door. 
He  stopped  by  the  door,  and  stood  still  a  minute  or  two, 
as  if  he  were  listening." 

"Perhaps  he  was  listening  to  hear  if  I  were  at  home." 

"  I  was  sure  of  it,  and  started  on  a  run  to  the  house  to 
warn  you ;  but  I  was  so  agitated  I  could  not  move  fast. 
I  saw  him  enter,  and  I  tried  to  scream,  but  could  not.  I 
felt  he  would  do  you  an  injury  with  that  knife." 

"Well?" 

"  Well,  he  went  in  and  closed  the  door  behind  him ; 
but  he  did  not  remain  there  more  than  two  minutes  ;  for 
as  I  ran  I  saw  him  come  out  again,  and  strike  right  into 
the  woods  to  the  left." 

"  That  is  the  short  cut  to  the  railroad  switch.  Perhaps 
he  expected  to  find  me  there." 

"  Perhaps  he  did,"  said  Barbara. 


FIVE  MINUTES  BEHIND. 


259 


"Or  possibly" — the  "green-eyed  monster"  was  reas- 
serting its  presence  once  more,  and  trying  to  smile,  I 
said — "possibly  he  knew  you  were  out,  and  hoped  to 
meet  you  somewhere  in  the  vicinity." 

Barbara's  long  lashes  drooped  for  a  moment ;  then 
there  was  a  flash  in  her  eyes ;  and  then  she  answered, 
carelessly,  with  just  a  perceptible  sneer  : 

"It  is  just  possible  that  he  did,  though  why  he  should 
arm  himself  to  meet  me,  is  beyond  my  comprehension. 
At  all  events,  he  went  the  wrong  way.     Good-evening." 

"  Surely  you  are  not  going  yet  ?  " 

"  I  must,  thank  you.  Father  will  certainly  think  I  am 
lost  if  I  don't  hurry  home." 

I  saw  by  the  clock  that  it  was  only  half-past  five. 
"You  will  let  me  walk  with  you  as  far  as  the  bridge, 
Barbara  ?  " 

She  would  have  hesitated  awhile  on  any  occasion,  and 
have  refused  my  escort.  This  little  rustic  maiden  of  the 
wilderness  possessed  all  the  impulses  and  wiles  of  a 
drawing-room  coquette,  and  seldom  missed  an  opportu- 
nity of  tormenting  me.  My  allusion  to  Walker  had  of- 
fended her,  and  she  grew  serious.  Had  I  deemed  it  pos- 
sible that  she  could  experience  personal  fear,  I  should 
have  fancied  that  she  was  afraid  of  something  or  some- 
body, for  her  hand  trembled,  as  she  laid  it  on  my  arm. 
Then  I  thought  something  in  the  melting  darkness  of  her 
eye  appealed  to  me  with  a  voiceless  cry  for  help  ! 

"What  is  it,  Barbara?"  I  questioned,  instinctively. 

She  looked  wonderingly  at  me — the  look  had  all  gone 
out  of  her  eyes  now. 

"  Nothing.     I  did  not  speak." 

"But  what  ails  you?  Why  are  you  so  depressed  in 
spirits?" 


260  FIVE  MINUTES  BEHIND. 

"  I  feel  there  is  something  wrong — that  man — you 
have  escaped  him  this  time,  but  I  want  you  to  be  wary 
of  him." 

"For  your  sake?"  I  ventured,  stutteringly  and  hesi- 
tatingly. 

"  For  your  own  sake,"  she  answered ;  and  then  both 
of  us  were  silent  for  some  time. 

What  a  delightful,  dreamy  walk  that  was,  down  to  the 
bridge,  whose  rude  planks  spanned  the  shallow,  brawling 
stream,  with  the  low  sun  hanging  like  a  ball  of  gold  above 
the  purpled  woods,  and  the  air  full  of  fragrant  breathings 
of  the  spring-tide,  whose  coming  footsteps  were  already 
sweet  upon  the  hills  !  Pleasant  in  spite  of  warning  and 
Walker.  Barbara's  softly-spoken  "Good-by!"  sounded 
like  saddest  music  as  I  turned  away  from  the  bridge, 
regretting  that  I  could  not  prolong  the  rambling  tete-&- 
tete  to  an  indefinite  length. 

A  few  paces  higher  up  I  turned  once  more  to  watch 
the  scarlet  gleam  of  Barbara's  wrappings  through  the 
column-like  trunks  of  the  leafless  trees ;  and  as  my  eye 
rested  on  this  one  bright  glimpse  of  color,  a  tall  figure 
emerged  with  a  stealthy  air  from  the  thickets  beyond, 
and  joined  her. 

It  was  Walker!  How  the  sharp  pang  of  jealousy  shot 
through  my  heart  as  I  saw  him  bend  over  her  little  hand, 
and  still  hold  it  in  his  own,  as  he  walked  by  her  side. 
Was  it  a  preconcerted  interview  ?  Had  she  told  him  to 
meet  her,  as  soon  as  I,  the  deluded  dupe,  was  well  out 
of  the  way  ?  Did  they  make  my  home  a  rendezvous  to 
escape  the  eyes  of  her  father  ?     Did  they — 

Hark !  Surely  that  was  a  cry,  wild  and  startling — 
a  cry  from  Barbara  Wycliffe's  lips  !  From  my  post  on  the 
higher  ground,  I  could  see  that  she  had  started  back 


FIVE  MINUTES  BEHIND.  26l 

from  him,  and  drawn  her  hand  away.  My  first  thought 
was  to  spring  down  into  the  ravine,  but  desisted  when  I 
saw  him  take  the  hand  once  again.  I  could  see  tnat  he 
was  speaking  in  an  eager  manner,  pointing  in  my  direc- 
tion, with  frequent  and  impulsive  gestures,  and  then  I 
saw  him  grasp  her  hand  again.  I  saw  his  arm  around 
her  waist — her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  and  worst  of  all 
— she  did  not  repulse  him  ! 

"  Glad  I  did  not  make  a  fool  of  myself,"  I  muttered 
bitterly,  turning  away  with  long  irregular  strides  up  the 
hill.  "  Let  them  go  on  their  way.  It  is  the  last  time  I 
shall  be  duped  by  the  bright  eyes  of  a  heartless  coquette. 
I  am  glad  I  have  discovered  her  in  her  true  light  at  last." 

But  I  was  not  glad.  There  was  a  pang  gnawing  at 
my  heart  as  I  slowly  returned  to  the  cabin ;  and  as  I  en- 
tered the  room,  I  looked  up  involuntarily,  with  the  in- 
stinct that  grows  from  constant  habit,  at  the  clock.  The 
hands  indicated  the  hour  of  six.  Somehow  I  fancied  it 
was  later  than  that.  The  sun  had  dipped  down  behind 
the  purple  line  of  woods ;  the  long  shadows  of  the  tree- 
trunks  stretching  out  across  the  brown  turf  in  front  of  my 
door-step  had  vanished,  and  just  in  the  warm  orange 
glow  of  the  west  a  great  golden  star  flamed  and  quivered 
like  a  solitary  eye  of  fire. 

"  It  can't  be  that  the  sun  sets  earlier  than  usual,"  I 
said  to  myself,  half  doubtfully,  and  yet — 

Standing  there  hesitating— I  knew  not  why — I  heard 
the  bell  of  St.  Mark's  at  Branhill — the  church-bell  of  the 
far-off  village.  It  could  be  heard  only  on  the  stillest 
days,  when  the  wind  set  in  a  peculiar  direction ;  but  now 
the  strokes  rang  out  with  marvellous  distinctness  : 

One — two — three — four — five — six — seven  ! 

Like  invisible  writing  suddenly  flashing  into  view  at  the 


262  JWB  MINUTES  BEHIND. 

magic  action  of  fire,  the  whole  chain  of  circumstances  be- 
came frightfully,  diabolically  clear.  John  Walker's  mys- 
terious presence  in  my  cabin  but  two  hours  since  was 
sufficiently  explained  now.  He  had  writhed  in,  deadly 
and  noiseless,  like  a  serpent,  to  work  my  ruin,  and  ele- 
vate himself  upon  the  wreck  of  my  good  name  and  trust. 
His  hand  had  moved  backward  the  indices  of  my  time- 
piece upon  the  dial  with  a  motive  too  horrible  for  me  to 
contemplate  without  a  shudder.  He  knew  (for  had  I  not 
myself  told  him?)  that  the  Lightning  Express,  going 
North,  met  the  Branch-road  train  at  seven  o'clock,  and 
that  it  rushed  wildly  forward  without  stopping,  with  only 
a  whistle  of  warning.  The  switch  was  set  to  the  Branch 
road ;  it  must  be  changed  at  a  quarter  to  seven,  or  the  Light- 
ning Express  would  leave  the  track  and  collide  with  the 
"  Accommodation,"  calmly  waiting  it  in  fancied  security. 
Yes  ;  John  Walker  had  deliberately  laid  his  plans  to  ruin 
me ;  and  Barbara — could  it  be  possible  that  Barbara's 
sweet  frankness,  her  unwonted  presence,  her  warning, 
were  part  of  his  fiendish  conspiracy  to  divert  my  attention, 
and  wile  me  away  from  the  post  of  duty  ?  Was  Barbara 
in  his  interest  ?  and  had  I  been  doubly  deceived  ?  As  I 
stood  there  perfectly  motionless,  with  cold  drops  oozing 
out  upon  my  brow,  and  a  frozen  sort  of  rigidity  at  my 
heart,  I  could  almost  see  the  shattered  cars,  the  shapeless, 
splintered  ruin,  the  crushed  machinery,  the  ghastly  faces 
upturned  to  the  glowing  purple  of  the  fair  twilight  sky  ;  I 
could  hear  the  shrieks  and  groans  and  dying  gasps  through 
the  dull,  continuous  roar  that  seemed  to  surge  across  my 
brain !  And  I- — /  should  have  been  the  unconscious 
murderer,  the  guiltless  criminal !  O  God  of  all  mercies ! 
Was  there  no  way  of  averting  the  impending  shadow  of 
this  awful  catastrophe  ? 


FIVE  MINUTES  BEHIND.  26$ 

All  this  was  thought  in  a  second ;  and  before  the  chimes 
had  ceased  ringing  the  final  stroke  of  seven,  I  bounded 
from  the  room.  My  usual  route  down  to  the  switch  was 
a  foot-path,  steep  and  narrow,  that  skirted  the  edges  of 
the  precipitous  hills ;  but  there  was  a  nearer  and  much 
more  direct  way,  through  dense  undergrowth  and  matted 
briars  and  bushes,  through  which  I  plunged,  heedless  of 
tearing  thorns  and  tangled  branches,  which  seemed  to 
impede  my  progress  with  almost  human  malice.  As  I 
ran  my  speed  was  accelerated  by  the  shrill  whistle  of  the 
approaching  Accommodation  train.  I  did  not  mind  that 
— the  Accommodation  would  stop  on  its  track  and  wait 
for  the  Lightning  Express  to  pass ;  but  I  had  not  a  second 
to  spare,  for  usually  the  whistle  of  the  Lightning  was 
heard  as  if  it  were  the  echo  of  the  other,  so  nearly  simul- 
taneously were  they  due  at  Branhill  Junction.  As  I 
neared  the  track  with  breath  that  came  in  short,  panting 
sobs  and  laboring  pulses,  I  saw,  as  it  were,  through  a 
scarlet  mist  of  blood,  the  white,  starry  gleam  of  the  sig- 
nal lamp  in  its  accustomed  place — the  "  all  right "  token 
to  the  engineer  of  the  Lightning  train  ! 

Whose  hand  had  so  foully  lighted  that  treacherous  star 
of  doom  ? 

As  I  ran  I  had  searched  for  the  key  of  the  switch-lock. 
It  was  safe.  I  sprang  to  the  track,  hurling  down  the  sig- 
nal with  a  vehemence  that  shivered  the  strong  glass  to  a 
thousand  atoms.  I  thrust  the  key  into  the  lock  and  un- 
locked the  switch.  Great  Heavens !  the  lever  was  im- 
movable !  The  villain  had  done  his  work  completely, 
and  with  a  small  wooden  wedge  driven  firmly  between 
the  lever  and  the  iron  framework  of  the  switch,  had  made 
the  movement  of  the  former  impossible.  The  loud  shriek 
of  the  now  approaching  train  gave  me  additional  strength 


264  FIVE  MINUTES  BEHIND. 

in  vain,  for  I  could  not  move  the  rails.  Walker  and  Bar- 
bara Wycliffe  had  neglected  no  one  link  in  the  chain  of 
their  detestable  plot.  One  instant  I  stood,  in  the  utter 
abandonment  of  despair.  In  the  same  terrible  instant 
the  glare  of  the  thundering  train  flashed  on  the  track  and 
lighted  it  up  with  painful  brilliancy,  and  I  saw,  as  I  knew, 
that  the  rails  were  wrong.  While  my  mind  seemed  to 
give  way  before  the  terrible  doom  which  I  had  no  power 
to  avert,  a  breathless,  gasping  voice  sounded  close  in  my 
ear,  and  a  heavy  iron  implement  was  thrust  into  my 
hands.  I  did  not  see  her,  but  I  knew  who  it  was.  I  did 
not  see  the  implement  which  I  grasped,  but  I  knew  there 
was  strength  in  it. 

"  Reuben  !  Reuben  !     Quick  !  it  is  the  crowbar  ! " 

Before  the  words  were  finished  I  had  formed  my  plan 
of  action.  With  a  powerful  blow  I  struck  the  iron  rod 
of  the  switch — the  stem  which  connected  the  lever  and 
the  rails,  but  which  now  prevented  them  from  moving. 
A  single  blow  was  enough.  I  heard  the  sharp  twang  of 
the  iron  rod  as  it  snapped.  I  leaped  to  the  side  of  the 
track.  I  placed  the  crow-bar  as  a  lever  under  the  rail, 
and  was  about  to  move  the  switch  with  a  laugh  of  relief, 
when  I  felt  both  my  arms  grappled  from  behind,  with  a 
hold  as  firm  as  steel,  and  I  was  thrown  violently  back, 
dropping  the  crow-bar  as  I  fell. 

"Not  so  fast,  Reuben  Eyre,"  hissed  the  hated  voice  of 
John  Walker  close  to  my  ear.  "  I  will  be  revenged  yet, 
though  pretty  Barbara  has  played  me  false." 

I  struggled  to  free  myself  from  his  clinging  grasp,  with 
a  strength  that  afterward  seemed  supernatural,  but  in  vain. 
He  had  drawn  me,  I  suppose,  unconsciously  on  to  the 
track,  and  I  could  already  feel  the  thrill  and  tremble  of 
the  earth  beneath  my  feet — a  sure  sign  that  the  approach- 


FIVE  MINUTES  BEHIND.  26  $ 

ing  train  was  nearing  us.  I  thought  of  the  unsuspecting 
passengers  whose  fate  hung  in  the  balance.  Were  they 
to  perish  when  help  and  rescue  lay  almost  within  a 
hand's-breadth  of  me  ?  They  talk  of  the  bitterness  of 
death — this  was  the  bitterness  of  life  ;  and  in  that  moment 
of  horrible  suspense  I  drank  the  loathed  cup  to  the  very 
dregs. 

But,  thanks  to  God's  providence,  help  was  nearer  at 
hand  than  I  had  dared  to  hope.  With  surprising  courage 
and  presence  of  mind,  Barbara  Wycliffe  had  seized  the 
crow-bar,  and  forced  the  rails  into  position.  Brave  girl ! 
It  did  not  require  more  than  a  woman's  strength,  but  at 
that  moment  she  needed  more  than  a  man's  courage.  It 
wasn't  nerve  and  sinew  she  needed,  but  the  heart  to  do 
it.  The  train  did  not  slacken  its  speed.  The  engineer 
had  failed  to  notice  the  absence  of  the  signal,  and  dashed 
wildly  on  !  It  did  not  matter  now ;  the  switch  was  all 
right  and  the  danger  past. 

No,  not  past !  You  forget  that  while  I  saw  all  this ; 
saw  Barbara's  act ;  saw  the  rails  move  ;  saw  them  rightly 
adjusted;  saw  the  engineer's  mistake — actually  reflected 
that  it  was  the  result  of  his  farm  confidence  in  me — I  had 
never  failed  him  before — can  you  believe  that  all  this  time 
— this  crowded  instant — I  was  engaged  in  a  struggle  for 
life  with  John  Walker  ?  Mind  and  matter  were  totally 
distinct.  Mentally  I  was  absorbed  in  Barbara's  work ; 
physically,  I  grappled  with  John  Walker  !  The  train  and 
its  precious  freight  safe,  mind  returned  to  matter,  and 
Walker  soon  found  I  was  more  than  a  match  for  him. 
My  first  reflection  was  to  drag  him  and  myself  from  the 
track,  across  which  we  were  struggling.  It  was  the  work 
of  an  instant.  Then  with  a  superhuman  effort  I  endeav- 
ored to  free  myself  from  his  grasp,  and  I  threw  him  vio- 
12 


266  FIVE  MINUTES  BEHIND. 

lently  from  me.  He  staggered  back  a  pace  or  two,  vainly 
endeavoring  to  recover  his  equilibrium,  and  then  fell. 

Fell,  great  Heaven !  directly  across  the  iron  track ! 

I  made  an  instinctive  step  forward  to  save  him,  but 
Barbara  Wy cliff e's  arms  were  clasped  tightly  around  me, 
Barbara's  voice  was  crying  out  wildly, 

"  Reuben  !  Reuben  !  for  my  sake  ! " 

And  in  the  same  breath  the  Lightning  Express  rushed 
over  the  track  like  a  fiery  serpent,  and  I  knew  that  John 
Walker's  accounts  with  Time  were  closed  forever. 

The  engineer  and  fireman  of  the  Accommodation 
train,  which  was  standing  on  the  Branch  road,  had,  in  the 
glare  of  the  locomotive,  witnessed  the  struggle,  and  heard 
Barbara's  screams,  and  now  came  rushing  forward.  In 
awed  silence  they  removed  the  body  from  the  track  where 
it  lay,  fearfully  crushed  and  mangled,  with  glazed  eyes 
upturned,  and  brow  still  contracted  with  the  scowl  of 
mortal  rage. 

So  the  man  died,  and  there  was  no  living  soul  to  mourn 
his  death. 

As  the  engineer  of  the  Accommodation  comprehended 
the  situation,  and  explained  it  to  the  wondering  passen- 
gers, he  turned  to  me  as  I  mechanically  readjusted  the 
switch  to  allow  the  Accommodation  to  pass,  and  said  : 

"  Lucky  for  you,  old  fellow,  that  the  Lightning  was 
five  minutes  behind  time." 

Five  minutes  behind  time — and  those  five  minutes  had 
held  the  destiny  of  life  and  death  within  their  pulsing 
seconds ! 

As  the  last  crash  and  rattle  of  the  vanishing  train,  which 
now  sped  on  its  way,  smote  upon  my  ear,  my  duty  for  the 
night  wholly  done,  all  the  fictitious  strength  that  had  lent 
vigor  to  my  arm,  and  nerve  to  my  limbs,  seemed  taken 


FIVE  MINUTES  BEHIND.  267 

from  me.  My  friendly  crow-bar  dropped  with  a  dull 
sound  from  my  hands,  the  far-off  crests  of  the  purple  hills 
seemed  to  reel  and  tremble,  and  I  fell  like  a  log  to  the 
ground,  weak  and  fainting,  with  Barbara  Wycliffe's  sweet 
face  bending  over  me,  like  the  face  of  an  angel. 

When  thought  and  sense  returned  to  me  once  more, 
days  after,  I  was  in  my  little  cabin,  and  the  Wycliffes, 
father  and  daughter,  were  ministering  to  me.  And  the 
farmer  told  me  how  the  people  from  all  about  the  coun- 
try had  come  to  look  at  the  dead  man,  and  hear  the  ver- 
dict of  the  coroner's  jury,  and  to  see  how  narrowly  the 
passengers  of  the  two  trains  had  escaped  the  doom  that 
had  come  down  upon  him  like  an  avenging  spirit. 

"  And  I  tell  ye,  it  made  their  blood  run  cold,"  said  the 
farmer.  "  They  called  my  little  girl  a  heroine,  and  I 
ain't  sure  but  that  they're  right ! " 

"  Barbara,"  said  I,  when  the  old  man  had  gone  to  the 
spring  for  water,  and  we  were  left  alone  together,  "  how 
did  it  happen  ?     How  did  you  know  that  he — " 

"  He  told  me  himself,"  said  Barbara,  in  a  low,  troubled 
voice. 

"When?" 

"  That  evening,  after  I  had  left  you  at  the  bridge." 

"And  you,  Barbara,  what  did  you  say?" 

"At  first  I  screamed  with  terror.  Then  he  told  me 
he  had  done  it  for  love  of  me  ;  that  when  he  got  your 
place  he  would  marry  me.  What  could  I  do  ?  I  dared 
not  turn  back  to  you,  for  there  was  murder  in  his  eyes, 
and  he  would  have  stabbed  you — perhaps  me,  too,  long 
before  I  could  have  reached  you ;  so  I  let  him  fancy — 
God  forgive  me — that  I  would  be  his  accomplice  in  his 
wicked  schemes  and  his  wife  afterward.  He  told  me  all 
he  had  done.     So  when  he  left  me  I  went  straight  to 


268  FIVE  MINUTES  BEHIND. 

where  I  had  seen  my  father's  crow-bar  lying  by  the  track ; 
and  oh,  Reuben  !  it  seemed  as  if  I  never  should  be  able 
to  drag  its  weary  weight  through  the  woods  to  your  post. 
Every  rush  of  the  wind  in  the  tree-tops  seemed  like  the 
train  coming,  and  every  rustling  leaf  was  John  Walker's 
step ! " 

She  bowed  her  head  in  her  hands  with  a  shudder. 
But  Farmer  Wycliffe's  footfall  was  on  the  frozen  earth 
outside,  and  I  had  not  yet  learned  quite  all  I  wanted  to 
know. 

"  Then,  Barbara,  I  was  wrong  when  I  thought  you 
loved  John  Walker." 

"  Wrong — altogether  wrong !" 

"  And  it  was  not  he — but — but  me  you  loved  all  the 
time  ?  " 

The  roses  came  to  her  cheek,  and  the  small  head  was 
royally  poised. 

"Because,  darling  I  have  loved  you  these  many 
months.  Tell  me  my  fate  quickly — your  father  is  close 
at  hand;  •  Is  it  yes  or  no  ?  " 

And  Barbara  whispered — "Yes." 


XXV. 

UP  AND   DOWN   THE   RAIL. 

BY  AN  OFFICE-MAN. 


ji|Sjg|[  AM  in  the  employ  of  the  what-d'ye-call-'em 
Central  Railway ;  but  it  does  not  concern  you 
whether  I  am  a  director,  superintendent,  con- 
ductor, or  brakeman.  My  purpose  is  simply  to 
put  down  a  few  remarks  concerning  the  machinery  by 
which  this  great  line  is  worked,  and  thereby  ease  my 
mind  of  a  nightmare  which  has  weighed  upon  it  for  some 
time. 

The  august  and  all-powerful  body  of  directors,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  come  first ;  but  of  them  we  can  say  lit- 
tle. They  are  of  the  gods,  and  sit  above  the  thunder, 
and  it  is  with  mortals  that  we  have  now  to  deal.  To  the 
vast  body  of  officials  and  employes  on  this  our  railway, 
the  board  of  directors  is  a  sort  of  mythical  assembly, 
which  they  hear  frequently  mentioned,  but  which  they 
seldom  or  never  see.  They  hear  of  them  in  the  reports 
— those  puzzling  compilations  of  facts  and  figures  which 
not  one  person  in  a  thousand  can  make  head  or  tail  of, 


270 


UP  AND  DOWN  THE  RAIL. 


or  they  see  "  By  order  of  the  Board  of  Directors,"  printed 
at  the  foot  of  something  or  other  ;  but  further  than  this, 
the  acquaintance  does  not  extend.  Sometimes,  indeed, 
as  Mr.  Brown  happens  to  be  traversing  the  platform,  a 
friend  will  take  him  by  the  button  for  a  moment,  and 
with  a  mysterious  nod  will  whisper,  "  Do  you  see  that 
stout  gentleman  with  the  thick  walking-stick?  Well, 
that  is  Mr.  Pompous,  our  chairman."  Or,  "  Do  you  see 
that  thin  person  walking  with  his  hands  behind  him  ? 
That  is  Mr.  Croesus.  He  is  one  of  our  directors,  and 
said  to  be  worth  half  a  million  of  money."  Mr.  Brown, 
who  is  one  of  us,  you  know,  will  gaze  for  a  moment 
with  hushed  reverence,  and  then,  hurrying  to  the  office,  tell 
his  fellow-clerks  what  he  has  seen,  adding  that  he  should 
like  to  have  told  old  Pompous  a  bit  of  his  mind  about 
the  horrid  low  salaries  and  overwork  in  our  department. 

The  heads  of  departments  are,  with  rare  exceptions, 
the  only  portion  of  the  executive  with  whom  the  board 
comes  in  contact.  They  are  not  without  their  cares, 
these  directors,  their  lofty  position  notwithstanding ; 
especially  if  the  traffic  for  a  given  time  does  not  show 
well,  or  any  of  their  transactions  on  behalf  of  the  Com- 
pany prove  unfortunate ;  for  in  such  cases  stockholders 
are  liable  to*turn  rusty  and  put  awkward  questions  at 
the  next  general  meeting,  which  must  be  answered  in  a 
more  or  less  straightforward  manner. 

Next  to  the  directors  in  point  of  precedence  comes 
the  president  or  general  superintendent.  Most  managers 
of  large  railways  have  some  special  point  about  them  for 
which  they  are  noted  more  than  another.  Some  are 
known  as  skilful  diplomatists ;  dexterous  in  drawing  up 
agreements ;  far-seeing  in  their  plans  for  the  future  ;  not 
to  be  outwitted  by  the  stratagem  of  hostile  lines.     Others 


UP  AND  DOWN  THE  RAIL.  2"Jl 

have  a  talent  for  developing  the  home  traffic  of  their 
lines  by  creating  a  trade  where  none  existed  before  ;  for 
swelling  the  returns  and  realizing  a  thumping  dividend 
at  the  close  of  the  fiscal  year.  These  are  the  men  whom 
the  shareholders  delight  to  honor.  Other  managers  there 
are,  in  secondary  positions,  who  are  known  as  close 
shavers  and  economists ;  who  cut  down  the  expenses  to 
the  lowest  figure ;  who  are  continually  finding  out  some 
morsel  of  cheese  that  needs  paring ;  payers  of  starvation 
salaries ;  detested  in  secret  by  all  whom  they  employ ; 
who  think  by  such  penny  wisdom  to  make  up  for  their 
pound  foolishness  in  other  things.  Here  and  there  we 
have  still  an  ornamental  sub-manager,  a  mechanical 
figure  with  clock-work  brains,  placed  on  its  pedestal  by 
patronage  or  accident ;  not  destined  to  remain  there  for 
any  length  of  time,  but  soon  to  run  down  and  be  displac- 
ed by  something  more  practical.  The  origin  of  our  big 
railroad  men  is  as  various  as  their  talents.  Some  have 
risen  to  the  elevation  they  occupy  from  the  humblest 
positions  on  the  Road,  by  aptitude,  force  of  will,  or  good 
fortune.  These  are  generally  your  best  men.  As  a  rule 
superintendents  are  well  paid. 

We  may  compare  the  general  superintendent  in  his 
cabinet  to  a  spider  seated  at  the  nuclefls  of  his  web, 
controlling  from  that  point  a  hundred  diverging  threads, 
and  itself  scarcely  seen,  keeping  ceaseless  watch  over  the 
whole.  But,  unlike  the  spider,  who  does  all  its  business 
by  itself,  our  superintendent  is  obliged  to  employ  sundry 
subordinates,  division  or  assistant  superintendents,  master 
mechanics,  road-masters — to  keep  his  web  in  working  or- 
der. Each  takes  one  or  more  threads,  and  being  respon- 
sible to  the  spider-in-chief  for  their  management. 

To  the  road-master  belongs  the  maintenance  and  re- 


272 


UP  AND  DOWN  THE  RAIL. 


newal  of  the  permanent  way ;  the  formation  and  altera- 
tion of  branch  lines,  sidings,  tunnels,  bridges,  viaducts, 
etc.  He  must  see,  indeed,  that  the  line  is  kept  in  thor- 
ough repair  from  one  end  to  the  other.  He  has  assist- 
ants, of  course,  stationed  up  and  down  the  line. 

The  secretary  is,  on  most  roads,  the  official  representa- 
tive of  the  Company.  He  keeps  the  stock  and  share  ac- 
counts, issues  all  dividend  and  interest  warrants,  acts  as 
treasurer,  and  receives  all  moneys.  The  auditor  has  the 
management  of  the  accounts  of  the  line.  The  general 
freight  agent  has  charge  of  the  traffic  of  the  line,  and  the 
general  ticket  or  passenger  agent,  the  management  of  the 
passenger  traffic.  There  is  no  class  of  men  connected 
with  railways  on  whom  greater  responsibility  rests  than 
on  station  agents.  There  are  numerous  small  stations 
on  every  road,  where  one  man  performs  the  whole  of  the 
duties — freight  agent,  ticket  agent,  express  agent,  tele- 
graph operator,  and  switchman,  all  for  a  mere  pittance 
per  month,  and  a  small  house.  The  agents  of  the  larger 
stations  are  generally  recruited  from  among  the  more  in- 
telligent clerks,  or  the  agents  of  smaller  stations  whose 
business  talents  have  attracted  attention  at  headquarters. 

From  wiper  to  fireman,  and  from  fireman  to  engineer, 
is  the  scale  which  must  be  ascended  by  those  who  aspire 
to  the  dignity  of  running  a  locomotive.  A  practical  ac- 
quaintance with  their  duties  is  thus  insured  in  those  to 
whose  care  and  vigilance  thousands  of  lives  are  hourly 
intrusted.  There  are  no  dirtier  stations  than  those  of 
wiper  and  fireman.  They  have  to  clean  out  the  engines, 
light  the  fires,  keep  the  brasses  clean,  and  get  everything 
ready  for  the  engineer.  What  with  the  steam,  the  oil, 
and  the  dampness  of  the  atmosphere,  it  is  a  difficult  mat- 
ter to  keep  a  locomotive  thoroughly  bright  and  clean. 


UP  AND  DOWN  THE  RAIL. 


273 


Engineers  and  firemen,  when  on  the  road,  may  often  be 
seen  to  take  advantage  of  a  spare  moment  to  give  the 
brass  a  rub,  or  to  bring  out  an  oil  can  with  a  long  nib, 
and  lubricate  the  interior  of  the  iron  monster  under  their 
command.  The  engineer  becomes  much  attached  to  his 
locomotive,  and  frequently  gives  it  the  endearing  name 
of  "  wife"  or  "  sweetheart." 

It  is  a  pleasant  change  when  our  fireman  is  made  en- 
gineer. For  some  time  at  first  he  is  set  to  drive  a  yard 
or  construction  engine,  and  is  not  intrusted  with  the  lives 
of  men  until  his  experience  has  been  thoroughly  tested. 
The  engineer  is  generally  a  sociable,  easy-going  fellow. 
He  earns  his  money  readily,  and  spends  it  freely.  The 
healthy  out-of-doors  life  he  is  forced  to  lead  influences  his 
tastes  in  several  ways.  He  is  fond  of  company,  fond  of 
his  pipe,  sometimes  of  his  glass.  He  is  a  good  husband 
and  father,  and  whatever  his  wife  may  be  at  home,  he 
likes  to  see  her  in  fashionable  attire  on  gala  occasions. 
He  himself,  when  he  is  spruced  up  of  an  evening,  is  a 
very  different  individual  from  the  black,  greasy-looking 
person  in  overalls,  who  brought  you  in  by  the  four  o'clock 
train  this  afternoon.  Long  habit  has  made  night  and  day 
alike  to  him,  and  he  will  get  up  at  midnight  as  readily  as 
at  noon.  He  gets  a  good  meal  at  home  before  he  sets 
off ;  for  the  rest  he  takes  some  coffee  in  a  can  and  warms 
it  over  the  boiler,  as  an  accompaniment  to  a  few  sand- 
wiches or  some  bread  and  butter ;  though  he  is  not  above 
a  steak  grilled  over  the  glowing  embers  as  he  rides  along. 

Brakemen  and  conductors  occupy  the  same  position 
relatively  as  firemen-and  engineers,  though  not  one  brake- 
man  in  twenty  ever  becomes  a  conductor  ;  still  each  of 
them  may  hope  to  be  one  of  the  fortunate.  There  are 
two  classes  of  brakemen  and  conductors — passenger  and 
12* 


274 


UP  AND  DOWN  THE  RAIL. 


freight.  A  combination  of  vigilance,  honesty,  firmness, 
courage,  and  courtesy,  is  required  to  form  a  good  railway 
conductor  or  brakeman.  Happily  for  the  public,  the 
combination  is  by  no  means  rare.  He  must  wink  at  an 
occasional  cigar  or  pipe,  if  not  too  openly  displayed,  es- 
pecially if  there  be  no  lady  in  the  offending  car.  In  case 
of  any- break-down  or  accident,  he  must  have  his  wits 
thoroughly  about  him,  and  see  at  a  glance  how  the  disas- 
ter may  be  soonest  remedied. 

As  to  consolidations,  let  us  run  over  the  great  Central 
route,  from  the  depot  at  Philadelphia  to  Pittsburg  :  from 
Pittsburg,  on  the  Steubenville,  Columbus,  and  Pan- 
Handle  road,  to  Columbus  ;  from  Columbus  to  Union 
City,  and  branching  to  the  left,  to  Indianapolis;  from 
Union  City  to  Logansport ;  from  Logansport  to  the  Illi- 
nois State  line,  and  the  latter  point,  by  the  Toledo,  Peoria, 
and  Warsaw  Railway,  complete  to  the  Mississippi  river, 
and  thence  onward,  maintaining  a  midland  course  to  the 
Pacific  ocean.  This  great  central  combination,  having 
its  base  on  the  Atlantic,  and  its  principal  depots  at  New 
York,  Philadelphia,  Washington,  and  Baltimore,  which  are 
easily  accessible — New  Jersey  by  the  Lebanon  Valley  and 
the  Baltimore  Central,  and  the  latter  by  the  Baltimore  and 
Ohio — open  a  continuous  avenue  on  a  single  longitudi- 
nous  line  everywhere  from  the  Atlantic  ocean  to  the  west- 
ern terminus  of  the  Pacific  Railway.  Wonderful  prog- 
ress indeed  is  all  this,  and  it  may  well  lead  government 
makers  of  New  York  to  reflect  a  little  upon  the  point, 
whether  it  is  either  wise  or  possible  to  interdict  consoli- 
dations. It  occurs  to  me,  that  such  interdiction  is  of 
near  kin  to  that  which  would  forbid  the  inventor  to  put 
together  the  parts  of  his  machine  to  answer  the  ends  of 
his  discovery.     For  illustration,  the  greater  number  of 


UP  AND  DOWN  THE  RAIL. 


275 


roads  on  a  given  line,  the  greater  must  be  the  expense, 
delays,  and  the  higher  the  rates.  Consolidation  is  but  an 
expression  of  practical  energy  and  economy.  Twenty 
roads  here  referred  to  are  thrown  into  two  or  three,  prac- 
tically into  one.  For  instance,  from  the  Illinois  State 
line  eastward — the  Toledo,  Logan  sport,  and  Burlington ; 
the  Union  and  Logansport ;  the  Columbus  and  Indianap- 
olis ;  the  Indiana  Central ;  the  Piqua — making  362  miles 
— are  made  into  the  Indiana  Central  Company  ;  and  so 
of  the  entire  line.  Consolidations  have  taken  the  whole 
route  from  Pittsburg  to  the  Mississippi  river  at  Keokuk  or 
Warsaw,  under  a  single  name,  covering  a  distance  of  680 
miles. 


XXVI. 


A   RAILWAY  DETECTIVE'S   CONFESSION. 


RAILWAY  detective  got  on  Hod.  Hale's  train, 
on  the  Erie  Road,  at  Batavia,  having  bought  a 
ticket  for  Avon.  He  kept  the  ticket  and  paid 
his  fare.  When  they  reached  Avon,  the  end  of 
Hale's  run,  he  produced  the  ticket  with  the  remark, 
"  Here's  a  ticket  I  found  on  the  platform,"  expecting 
Hale  to  put  it  in  his  pocket.  "  Here's  what  we  do  with 
those  fellows,"  replied  Hale,  taking  the  ticket,  punching 
it  and  putting  it  in  his  pocket,  "and  now  I'll  show  you 
what  we  do  with  you  fellows." 

Hale   then  invited  him  to  join  him   at  his  residence, 
where  he  exacted  from  him  the  following  confession  : 

"Up  to  the  commencement  of  the  present  year  I  have 
been  employed  as  a  railroad  detective.  Having  found  a 
more  honorable  employment,  and  by  way  of  penance  for  _ 
the  past,  I  feel  desirous  of  making  some  amends  to  that 
class  of  men  that  I  have  heretofore  aided,  unjustly  in 
many  cases,  in  vilifying,  by  giving  a  few  facts  of  the  work- 
ings of  that  unscrupulous  gang  known  as  railway  detec- 
tives, so  as  to  open  the  eyes  of  our  railroad  officials  to 


A  RAIL WA  Y  DETEC TIVE 'S   CONFESSION.     277 

the  injustice  of  condemning  innocent  men  upon  the  word 
of  such  as  now  belong  to  that  gang. 

"  Any  railroad  company  can  ascertain  that  nine-tenths 
of  the  conductors  accused  of  dishonesty  are  accused  un- 
justly. The  plan  is,  when  a  contract  to  work  on  a  road 
is  taken,  to  first  select  a  victim,  to  suppose  at  once  that 
he  is  guilty,  and,  reversing  the  maxim  of  the  common  law, 
to  either  find  or  manufacture  material  to  establish  the 
premises.  A  miracle  alone  can  save  him.  The  reputa- 
tion of  the  men  set  to  watch  him  is  at  stake,  and  they 
feel  that  it  is  incumbent  upon  them  to  bring  him  in  guilty 
of  fraudulent  practices. 

"  One  dodge  is  to  get  one  to  ask  a  conductor  to  change 
a  bill  for  accommodation,  while  another  witnesses  the 
operation  and  swears — and  swears  technically  true — that 
he  saw  the  conductor  receive  money,  and  neither  return 
nor  punch  a  ticket.  Another  plan  is  to  buy  two  tickets 
at  the  office  in  one  day,  present  one  to  the  conductor  and 
retain  the  other,  reporting  that  the  conductor  took  it  but 
did  not  punch  it.  In  the  meanwhile,  the  unsold  ticket  is 
given  to  the  confederate,  who  will  start  the  next  day  on 
the  same  train  for  the  same  place,  and  presents  the  ticket 
sold  the  day  before  to  the  conductor,  who,  if  he  did  not 
notice  the  date,  is  trapped.  It  is  a  very  successful  plan, 
as  it  hangs  both  the  conductor  and  the  agent. 

"Another  dodge  is  this:  several  'spotters'  crowd 
around  the  conductor,  calling  for  tickets,  and  offering 
money  for  different  points  on  the  road.  The  one  who 
pays  for  the  point  farthest  off  will  manage  to  get  the  ticket 
from  the  conductor  that  belongs  to  the  one  paying  for  the 
nearest  point.  Some  of  the  gang  then  get  off  at  the  near- 
est station,  leaving  the  tickets  in  the  hands  of  one  or  two 
who  go  the  whole  distance,  giving  up  the  long  tickets 


278     A  RAILWAY  DETECTIVE'S   CONFESSION'. 

and  holding  the  short  ones  as  evidence  against  the  con- 
ductor. Here  a  case  is  made,  and  the  conductor  cannot 
make  a  satisfactory  explanation. 

"  These  are  a  few  of  the  nefarious  and  rascally  schemes 
used  by  detectives.  I  do  not  say  that  conductors,  as  a 
class,  are  any  more  honest  than  any  other  class ;  but  the 
really  dishonest  ones  are  often  in  the  '  ring,'  and  are  sel- 
dom reported.  These  are  facts,  and  I  could,  were  it  ex- 
pedient, give  you  the  names  of  parties  whom  I  know  have 
been  unjustly  dealt  with.  I  have  done  all  in  my  power 
for  them,  have  been  to  the  executive,  and  in  one  case 
have  succeeded  in  having  reinstated  a  man  whom  I  be- 
lieved to  be  strictly  honest.  And  I  now  take  another 
step  in  the  vindication  of  those  wronged  in  the  public 
prints.  Let  the  managers  of  railroads  see  and  think,  that 
an  evil  may  be  remedied.  Let  them  first  select  honor- 
able men  for  this  responsible  position,  and  then  treat 
them  as  men." 


XXVII. 


THE    FOUNDER    OF   THE    RAILWAY    SYSTEM. 


A  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH. 


MONG  the  ashes  and  slag  of  a  poor  colliery  vil- 
lage, near  Newcastle-on-Tyne,  in  the  unplas- 
tered  room,  with  a  clay  floor  and  garret  roof,  that 
was  the  entire  home  of  the  family  to  which  he  was 
born,  there  came  into  the  world,  on  a  June  day,  ninety 
years  ago,  one  of  its  best  benefactors.  The  village  is 
named  Wylam.  In  the  year  1781,  the  family  occupying 
one  of  the  four  laborers'  apartments  contained  in  the  cot- 
tage known  as  High  Street  House,  was  that  of  Robert 
Stephenson  and  his  wife  Mabel,  their  only  child  being  a 
two-year-old  boy  named  James.  On  the  ninth  of  June, 
year  just  named,  a  second  son  was  born  to  them,  whom 
they  called  George.  That  was  George  Stephenson,  the 
founder  of  the  Railway  System. 

His  father,  known  as  "old  Bob"  by  the  neighbors, 
was  a  fireman  to  the  pumping  engine  at  the  Wylam  col- 
liery, earning  not  more  than  twelve  shillings  a  week. 
Little  George  carried  his  father's  dinner  to  the  engine, 
helped  to  tug  about  and  nurse  the  children  younger  than 


28o  THE  FOUNDER  OF  THE  RAILWAY  SYSTEM. 

himself,  and  to  keep  them  out  of  the  way  of  the  chaldron 
wagons  on  the  wooden  tram-road  that  ran  close  before 
the  threshold  of  the  cottage  door.  If  Mabel  had  been  a 
Pythoness,  she  might  have  discovered,  as  she  stood  in 
the  door,  lines  of  fate  in  the  two  wooden  couplets  on  the 
road.  But  they  only  warned  her  of  danger  threatening 
her  children  while  at  play. 

The  coal  at  Wylam  was  worked  out,  and  old  Bob's  en- 
gine, which  had  "  stood  till  she  grew  fearsome  to  look 
at,"  was  pulled  down.  The  poor  family  then  followed 
the  work  to  Dewley  Burn,  where  Robert  Stephenson 
waited  as  fireman  on  a  newer  engine.  Little  George — 
Geordie  Steevie,  as  he  was  called — was  then  eight  years 
old.  Of  course  he  had  not  been  to  school,  but  he  was 
strong,  nimble  of  body  and  of  wit,  and  eager  to  begin  the 
business  of  bread-winning  with  the  least  possible  delay. 
In  a  neighboring  farm-house  lived  Grace  Ainslie,  a  widow, 
whose  cows  had  the  right  to  graze  along  the  wagon  road. 
The  post  of  keeping  them  out  of  the  way  of  the  wagons, 
and  preventing  them  from  trespassing  on  other  persons' 
liberties,  was  given  to  George.  He  was  to  have  a  shil- 
ling a  week,  and  his  duty  was  to  include  barring  the  gates 
at  night  after  the  wagons  had  all  passed. 

That  was  the  beginning  of  George  Stephenson's  career, 
and  from  it  he  pushed  forward  inch  by  inch  upward.  Of 
course  he  had  certain  peculiar  abilities,  but  many  may 
have  them,  yet  few  do  good  with  them.  George  Stephen- 
son made  his  own  fortune,  and  also  added  largely  to  the 
wealth  and  general  well-being  of  society.  In  climbing  the 
hill  Difficulty,  he  was  content  to  mount  by  short,  firm 
steps,  keeping  his  eyes  well  upon  the  ground  that  happens 
to  lie  next  before  his  feet.  It  is  not  our  purpose  to  fol- 
low the  details  of  his  career,  though  no  gossip  would  be 


THE  FOUNDER  OF  THE  RAILWAY  SYSTEM.  28l 

more  interesting  and  instructive.  At  the  age  of  fourteen 
he  was  promoted  from  the  position  of  driver  of  the  gin- 
horse,  to  the  post  of  assistant  fireman  to  his  father  at  the 
Dewley  engine.  He  was  then  so  young  that  he  used  to 
hide  when  the  owner  of  the  colliery  came  round,  lest  he 
should  think  him  too  small  for  the  place.  At  fifteen  he 
was  promoted  to  the  full  office  of  fireman  at  a  new 
working.  At  the  age  of  eighteen  he  could  not  read  or 
write  his  name.  He  was  then  getting  his  friend  Coe  to 
teach  him  the  mystery  of  braking,  that  he  might,  when 
opportunity  occurred,  advance  to  the  post  of  brakeman, 
next  above  that  which  he  held.  He  became  curious 
also  to  know,  definitely,  something  about  the  famous  en- 
gines that  were  in  those  days  planned  by  Watt  and  Bol- 
ton. The  desire  for  knowledge  taught  him  the  necessity 
of  learning  to  read  books.  He  was  promoted  to  the  po- 
sition of  brakeman,  and  subsequently  became  engine- 
wright  to  the  colliery  at  Killingworth,  at  a  salary  of  one 
hundred  pounds  a  year.  He  had  now  opportunities  of 
carrying  still  further  his  study  of  the  engine,  as  well  as 
turning  to  account  the  knowledge  he  already  possessed. 
The  locomotive  was  then  known  to  the  world  as  a  new 
toy,  curious  and  costly.  Stephenson  had  a  perception  of 
what  might  be  done  with  it,  and  was  beginning  to  make  it 
the  subject  of  his  thoughts.  The  father  entered  him  as  a 
member  of  the  Newcastle  Literary  and  Philosophical  In- 
stitution, and  toiled  with  him  over  books  of  science  bor- 
rowed from  its  library.  Various  experiments  had  been 
made  with  the  new  locomotive  engines.  One  had  been 
tried  on  the  Wylam  tram-road,  which  went  by  the  cottage 
in  which  Stephenson  was  born.  He  was  now  thirty-two 
years  old,  still  brooding  on  the  subject ;  watched  their 
failures,  worked  at  the  theory  of  their  construction,  and 


282   THE  FOUNDER  OF  THE  RAILWAY  SYSTEM. 

made  it  his  business  to  see  one.  He  felt  his  way  to  the 
manufacture  of  a  better  engine,  and  proceeded  to  bring 
the  subject  under  the  notice  of  the  lessees  of  the  colliery. 
He  had  acquired  reputation  not  only  as  an  ingenious  but 
as  a  safe  and  prudent  man.  Lord  Ravenswood,  the  prin- 
cipal partner,  therefore  authorized  him  to  fulfil  his  wish  ; 
and  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  making  workmen  of  some 
of  the  colliery  hands,  with  the  colliery  blacksmith  as  his 
head  assistant,  he  built  his  first  locomotive  in  the  work- 
shops at  Westmoor,  and  called  it  "  My  Lord."  It  was 
the  first  engine  constructed  with  smooth  wheels,  for 
Stephenson  never  admitted  the  prevailing  notion,  that 
contrivances  were  necessary  to  secure  adhesion.  "  My 
Lord  "  was  called  "  Blucher  "  by  the  people  round  about. 
It  was  first  placed  on  the  Killingworth  Railway  on  the 
twenty-fifth  of  July,  eighteen  hundred  and  fourteen,  and 
though  a  cumbrous  machine,  was  the  most  successful  that 
had  been  constructed  up  to  that  date. 

At  the  end  of  a  year  it  was  found  that  the  work  done 
by  Blucher  cost  about  as  much  as  the  same  work  would 
have  cost  if  done  by  horses.  Then  it  occurred  to  Ste- 
phenson to  turn  the  steam-pipe  into  the  chimney,  and 
carry  the  smoke  up  with  the  draught  of  a  steam-blast. 
That  would  add  to  the  intensity  of  the  fire,  and  to  the 
rapidity  with  which  steam  could  be  generated.  The 
power  of  the  engine  was  by  this  expedient  doubled. 

He  had  already  made  up  his  mind  that  the  perfection 
of  a  travelling  engine  would  be  half  lost  if  it  did  not  run 
on  a  perfected  rail.  Engine  and  rail  he  spoke  of,  even 
then,  as  "  man  and  wife,"  and  his  contrivances  for  the  im- 
provement of  the  locomotive  always  went  hand  in  hand 
with  his  contrivances  for  the  improvement  of  the  road 
upon  which  it  ran.     We  need  not  follow  the  mechanical 


THE  FOUNDER  OF  THE  RAILWAY  SYSTEM.  283 

details.  In  his  work  at  the  rail  and  engine,  he  made  prog- 
ress in  his  own  way,  inch  by  inch.  Every  new  locomo- 
tive built  by  him  contained  improvements  on  its  prede- 
cessor; every  time  he  laid  down  a  new  rail  he  added 
some  new  element  of  strength  and  firmness  to  it.  The 
Killingworth  Colliery  Railway  was  the  seed  from  which 
sprang  the  whole  system  of  railway  intercourse. 

One  of  Stephenson's  chief  pleasures,  in  his  latter  days, 
was  to  hold  out  a  helping  hand  to  poor  inventors  who 
deserved  assistance.  Inch  by  inch  he  made  his  ground 
good  in  the  world,  and  for  the  world.  A  year  before  his 
death,  in  1848,  somebody  about  to  dedicate  a  book  to 
him,  asked  him  what  were  his  "  ornamental  initials." 
His  reply  was,  "  I  have  to  state  that  I  have  no  flourishes 
to  my  name,  either  before  or  after  ;  and  I  think  it  will  be 
as  well  if  you  merely  say,  George  Stephenson." 


XXVIII. 


ANECDOTES   AND    INCIDENTS   OF   THE   BAIL. 

" Fifteen  Years  for  Refreshments" — "Gum  Drops" — A  Mistake 
— An  Accident — "Is  this  Seat  occupied?" — "I'm  going  to 
get  out  !  " — An  Intrusive  Stranger — "  Golly,  Boss  !  " — How  the 
Clergyman  put  it — A  Spread — "Give  us  a  Chaw  ! " — A  Victim 
— The  Lady  and  the  Boy — Twenty  Minutes  for  Dinner — The 
Lady  Smoker — A  Touching  Scene — Suspected  Larceny — Three- 
Card  Monte — "  Your  Fare,  if  you  please  " — "  It  is  a  Male! " — 
A  more  Successful  Attempt — The  Naturalist  and  the  Deacon — 
"Not  Good  on  this  Line  " — A  Special  Train — A  Little  Sermon 
— A  Pleasant  Travelling  Companion — Swindlers  Outwitted — A 
Thrilling  Scene — Married  on  the  Platform — A  Ventriloquist 
Aboard — The  Metamorphosis — Sunshine  and  Storm — The  Back 
Seat. 


RETURNED  traveller   empties  his   portman- 
teau, and  enters  upon  his  Diary  the  anecdotes' 
and  incidents  he  has  gathered  by  the  way  : 
We  had  on  our  train  a  keeper  who  was  tak- 
ing two  convicts  to  the  State  Prison.     When  the  train 
stopped  at  Sing  Sing,  he  called  out :  "  Step  out,  gentle- 
men, fifteen  years  for  refreshments  !  " 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL.  2S$ 

The  train-boy  came  along  with  his  basket  of  candy 
and  corn,  and  approaching  an  old  gentleman  near  me, 
said:  "Pop  corn!  Pop  corn!"  "Haven't  got  any 
teeth,"  angrily  replied  the  old  man.  "  Gum  drops  !  gum 
drops,"  called  the  smart  boy.    . 

I  rode  a  short  distance  with  the  governor  of  one  of 
the  Western  States,  a  gallant  and  jocose  man.  He  sat 
in  the  same  seat  with  a  friend,  when  two  young  men 
came  in,  escorting  two  young  ladies.  There  were  no  va- 
cant seats,  and  the  governor  and  his  friend  surrendered 
their  own.  What  was  their  astonishment  to  see  the 
young  men  occupy  the  seats  and  take  the  young  ladies 
on  their  laps!  "What  a  mistake,"  exclaimed  the  gov- 
ernor ;  "  we  might  have  done  that  !  " 

I  rode  from  Hartford  with  a  friend  of  the  late  Mr. 
Heaton,  who  repeated  the  remark  made  by  that  gentle- 
man in  1839:  "T  have  been  watching  the  stages.  I 
find  that  the  average  number  of  passengers  in  Hartford 
and  New  Haven  stages  is  twenty-seven.  If  anybody 
wants  to  invest  $3,000,000  in  a  railroad  between  these 
two  cities,  I  am  willing  they  should  go  ahead.  I  won't 
invest ! " 

We  were  coming  into  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  when 
the  locomotive  ran  into  a  mule  team.  We  were  thrown 
from  the  track,  and  getting  out,  found  the  cart  destroyed 
and  the  driver  fatally  injured.  The  mule  calmly  stood 
by  and  watched  the  proceedings  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

"  Is  this  seat  occupied  ?  "  asked  an  exquisite  of  an 
elderly  lady  of  rustic  design  in  the  cars  at  Norwalk  on 
one  occasion. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  she,  hastily  running  her  hands, 
with  a  great  deal  of  solicitude,  over  the  surface.  "  It 
feels  mostly  like  plush,  but  you  can't  most  always  tell ! " 


286  ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 

A  young  lady  entered  our  crowded  car  at  a  certain 
station.  An  old  gentleman  arose  at  the  opposite  end  as 
she  approached.  "  Oh,  don't  rise,"  said  the  lovely  girl, 
"  I  can  just  as  well  stand." 

"  I  don't  care  whether  you  sit  or  stand,"  he  replied, 
"  I'm  going  to  get  out !  " 

Every  time  a  train  approaches  a  station  called , 

on  a  Connecticut  road,  a  man  sits  on  a  fence  near  the 
depot.  He  had  done  so  daily  for  fifteen  years.  He  had 
an  old  mare  so  frightened  by  the  pesky  "kears"  once, 
that  she  died  of  convulsions.  He  is  now  daring  those 
"  kears  "  to  try  their  darned  noise  on  him.  If  they  serve 
him  as  they  did  the  mare,  he  is  just  going  to  have  the 
whole  infernal  thing  stopped  ! 

There  is  always  an  intrusive  stranger  aboard.  He 
asked  a  little  girl  sitting  by  her  mother  as  to  her  name, 
destination,  etc.  After  learning  that  she  was  going  to 
Philadelphia,  he  asked :  "  What  motive  is  taking  you 
thither  ?  "  "I  believe  they  call  it  the  locomotive,  sir," 
was  the  innocent  reply.  The  intrusive  stranger  got  an- 
other seat. 

A  smart  young  commercial  tourist,  who  rides  on  the 
rail  a  good  deal  in  Wisconsin,  has  a  habit  of  jumping  off 
the  cars  at  stations  where  opportunities  offer,  and  "  kiss- 
ing his  sister."  He  apologizes  when  he  discovers  his 
mistake.  I  was  on  the  train  when  he  made  his  last  vent- 
ure. The  damsel  raised  her  veil  and  exclaimed :  "  Golly^ 
boss,  what  you  'bout  dar  ?  " 

Detained  over  the  Sabbath  in  a  railroad  centre,  I  at- 
tended divine  service.  I  wrote  down  the  following  met- 
aphor from  the  clergyman's  sermon : 

"  At  the  death  of  the  just,  the  locomotive  of  his  soul, 
driven  by  the  coal  of  faith  and  the  steam  of  hope,  dashes 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL.  287 

along  the  rails  of  charity  toward  that  immovable  depot 
where  is  found  the  eternal  symbol  which  is  God." 

A  woman  in  Boston  is  trying  to  recover  five  thousand 
dollars  from  a  horse-railroad  company,  in  part  payment 
for  sundry  breaks,  jars,  and  fractures  received  on  account 
of  having  a  lot  of  passengers  fall  upon  her.  The  rails 
sprung,  and  the  car  sprung  from  the  track.  The  Company 
acknowledge  the  "  spread "  so  far  as  the  track  is  con- 
cerned, but  why  they  should  be  held  responsible  for  the 
passengers  "  spreading "  themselves  over  the  plaintiff, 
they  are  at  a  loss  to  know.  She  says  if  they  don't  pay 
she  will  never  ride  in  one  of  their  cars  again.     So,  now  ! 

I  had  just  bought  a  morning  paper,  when  a  large  and 
powerfully-built  passenger  exclaimed : 

"  Who  dare  spit  tobacco  juice  on  the  floor  of  this 
car  ?  "  at  the  same  time  stalking  down  the  aisle,  frowning 
upon  the  passengers. 

"  I  dare,"  said  a  burly-looking  fellow,  as  he  deliberately 
ejected  a  quantity  of  the  noxious  saliva  upon  the  floor  of 
the  aisle. 

"  All  right,  my  friend,"  said  the  first  speaker,  slapping 
the  other  in  a  friendly  manner  upon  the  shoulder,  "  give 
us  a  chaw !  " 

There  was  a  horrible  catastrophe  on  the  Dijon  Railroad, 
over  in  France.  We  came  along  the  next  day,  and 
stopped  to  view  the  wreck.  An  old  man  presented  him- 
self at  the  place  of  disaster.  A  workman,  who  was  col- 
lecting the  debris  and  clearing  the  track,  inquired  what 
he  wanted  : 

"  Monsieur,  I  am  one  of  the  victims." 

The  workman  looked  up,  and  seeing  a  man  without  in- 
jury, inquired,  "  Whom  have  you  lost,  then — your  wife, 
your  child,  and  friend  ?  " 


288  ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 

"  No,  monsieur,  I  have  lost  my  umbrella." 

The  workman  searched  among  the  broken  cars,  and 
by  a  singular  chance  found  the  umbrella. 

"There,"  said  he,  giving  it  to  the  peasant,  "you  are 
lucky  to  get  out  of  the  scrape  that  way." 

"  You  call  that  lucky,"  returned  the  man  ;  "  look  here, 
they  have  broken  two  whalebones  !  " 

We  were  on  the  4.30  train  from  New  York,  and  as  we 
reached  Stamford,  an  antique-looking  dame  thrust  her 
head  out  of  the  window  opposite  the  door  of  the  refresh- 
ment room,  and  briefly  shouted,  "Sonny  /" 

A  bright-looking  boy  came  up  to  the  window. 

"  Little  boy,"  said  she,  "  have  you  a  mother  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Do  you  love  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Do  you  go  to  school,  dear  ?  " 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"And  are  you  faithful  to  your  studies?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"Do  you  say  your  prayers  every  night ? " 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Can  I  trust  you  to  do  an  errand  for  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  I  think  I  can  too,"  said  the  kind  lady,  looking  stead- 
ily down  on  the  manly  face. 

"  Here  is  five  cents,  get  me  an  apple.  Remember 
God  sees  you  ! " 

"Twenty  minutes  for  dinner!"  shouted  the  brake- 
man  as  we  approached  Xenia. 

Arrived  there,  I  entered  the  dining-room  and  inquired 
of  a  waiter : 

"  What  do  you  have  for  dinner?" 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL.  289 

"  Twenty  minutes,"  was  the  hurried  reply. 

I  told  him  I  would  try  half  a  dozen  minutes,  raw,  on 
the  half-shell,  just  to  see  how  they  went.  Told  him  to 
make  a  minute  of  it  on  his  books.  He  scratched  his 
head  trying  to  comprehend  the  order,  but  finally  gave  it 
up  and  waited  upon  some  one  else. 

I  approached  a  man  who  stood  near  the  door  with  a 
roll  of  money  in  his  hand. 

"  What  do  you  have  for  dinner  ?  " 

"  Half  a  dollar,"  says  he. 

I  told  him  that  I  would  take  half  a  dollar  well  done. 
I  asked  him  if  he  could  send  me,  in  addition,  a  boiled 
pocket-book  stuffed  with  greenbacks,  and  some  seven- 
thirties  garnished  with  postage-stamps  and  ten-cent  scrip. 
Also  a  Confederate  bond,  done  brown,  with  lettuce  alone 
(let  us  alone).  I  would  like  to  wash  my  dinner  down 
with  National  Bank  Notes  on  "draft." 

He  said  they  were  out  of  everything  but  the  bank- 
notes, and  he  then  ordered  a  waiter  to  go  to  the  bank 
and  "draw"  some. 

One  night,  passing  from  Wilmington  to  Florence,  Ala- 
bama, our  car  was  filled  with  gentlemen,  only  one  lady 
being  present.  After  we  had  proceeded  some  way,  it 
was  proposed  to  have  a  smoke.  So  when  the  conductor 
came  through,  he  was  asked  if  he  would  allow  us  to 
smoke.  He  pointed  to  the  lady  and  replied,  "  If  she  has 
no  objections,  smoke  away."  I  went  to  the  lady,  and 
bowing,  asked  if  it  would  be  offensive  to  her.  "  Not  at 
all,  my  dear  sir,"  she  answered,  politely.  "I  am  so 
lonesome,  if  I  had  a  cigar  I  would  smoke  myself."  She 
was  supplied  with  one,  and  we  were  a  set  of  happy  fellows. 

We  were  on  the  night  train  of  the  Atlantic  and  Great 
Western  Railroad,  when  a  touching  scene  occurred.  An 
13 


290 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


old  lady,  an  invalid,  was  in  the  cars,  and  watched  over 
with  tender  care  by  her  daughter  and  son-in-law,  to  whose 
city  home  she  was  going  for  the  benefit  of  her  health. 
One  of  the  sections  was  comfortably  arranged,  so  that 
the  old  lady  said  she  should  rest  as  well  as  if  at  home. 
Before  retiring  the  young  people  sang  a  hymn  in  an  un- 
der-tone,  the  mother  seeming  to  enjoy  it  thoroughly, 
while  she  gazed  out  into  the  dim  twilight.  Several  times 
during  the  night  the  daughter  went  to  her  mother's  side 
to  see  that  she  was  resting  well;  but  about  four  o'clock 
she  spoke  to  her  mother,  and  no  answer  was  returned. 
A  wild  cry  was  heard :  "  Mother's  dead ! "  and  the 
startled  passengers  became  aware  that  the  aged  invalid 
had  passed  to  the  spirit  land  without  a  struggle.  When  the 
old  lady  left  her  own  village  home  she  had  said  :  "  Tell 
my  friends,  if  I  slip  away  on  this  journey,  that  I  was 
ready  and  willing  to  go." 

I  was  called  upon  to  interfere  in  behalf  of  a  Sacra- 
mento lady  on  one  occasion,  who  had  been  arraigned  for 
larceny  under  suspicious  circumstances.  She  was  riding 
in  a  crowded  railway  car,  and  occupied  a  seat  with 
another  lady  passenger.  Like  a  great  many  other  wo- 
men of  the  present  day,  she  were  curls — her  own  hair,  of 
course,  but  it  wasn't  fastened  on  strictly  according  to 
Nature's  programme.  By  and  by,  as  the  train  jolted 
along,  she  felt  something  falling  about  her  face  and  neck, 
and  in  a  second  it  flashed  across  her  brain  that  her  curls 
had  become  detached.  The  predicament  was  a  shocking 
one,  but  she  endeavored  to  save  herself  as  much  as  pos- 
sible by  quietly  passing  the  capillary  ornament  into  her 
pocket,  thanking  her  stars  that  she  was  almost  at  her  des- 
tination. At  the  station  she  hastened  to  the  dressing- 
room  to  repair  damages  to  her  toilet,  when,  behold  !  the 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


291 


mirror  reflected  back  the  fact  that  her  curls  were  in  their 
proper  position,  and  an  examination  of  those  in  her 
pocket  showed  that  they  were  not  hers,  but  of  a  different 
color,  and  belonging  to  the  lady  who  sat  by  her  side  in 
the  car. 

I  was  on  the  Kansas  City,  St.  Joe,  and  Council  Bluffs 
train,  and  when  between  Leavenworth  and  Kansas  City, 
saw  a  party  of  three-card  monte  men  fleece  a  New  York 
drummer  out  of  $1,300.  The  victim  was  a  German,  and 
fell  in  with  one  of  the  "  cappers,"  who  was  likewise  a 
German.  The  German  confederate  represented  the 
Texas  cattle-drover  to  perfection,  and  managed,  by  his 
frank  and  unsophisticated  demeanor,  to  enlist  the  confi- 
dence and  co-operation  of  the  New  York  commercial 
representative  in  a  venture  to  capture  the  funds  of  the 
monte  men.  The  "commercial  man"  won  several 
times,  and  always  received  his  winnings  in  counterfeit 
bills.  At  length  he  lost  all  his  greenbacks,  and  put  up  a 
draft  for  $1,000,  which  he  had  just  received  at  Kansas 
City,  and  the  draft  followed  the  cash  into  the  pockets  of 
the  monte  rascals.  The  victimized  "  drummer "  retired 
from  the  game  quite  overwhelmed  with  despair.  The 
draft  belonged  to  the  firm  which  the  commercial  man 
represented ;  and  when  the  victim  found  that  he  had 
not  guessed  the  winning  card,  he  walked  at  once  to  the 
rear  car  of  the  train,  took  a  seat,  and  gazed  out  of  the 
window  for  a  moment,  and  then  went  out  upon  the  plat- 
form. 

I  heard  that  he  was  picked  up  next  day,  with  his  throat 
cut  from  ear  to  ear. 

"Your  fare,  if  you  please,  madam,"  said  the  conductor 
to  an  elderly  lady  who  had  got  aboard  at  a  way  station. 
The  elderly  lady  looked  up,  and,  drawing  forth  a  letter, 


292 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


spoke  with  a  voice  that  was  shrill :  "  Two  of  Mr.  's 

children  is  dead,  and  they've  writ  me  to  come  to  the  buryin 
to-day.  Isn't  it  terrible!"  The  conductor  looked  as 
shocked  as  possible,  and  expressed  sympathy.  "  And," 
continued  the  old  lady,  "  I  want  you  to  let  me  ride  free." 
"I  can't  let  you  ride  free  unless  you  have  a  pass,"  re- 
turned the  conductor,  mildly.  "  Not  to  go  to  a  funeral!  " 
said  the  old  lady.  "  No,  madam,"  replied  the  conduc- 
tor. "  I'm  sorry  to  say  that  the  rules  of  the  road  are 
very  strict,  and  I  am  not  allowed  to  discriminate." 
"Well,  I  think  you  oughtn't  to  charge  toll  for  going  to 
a  funeral,"  persisted  the  old  lady.  ''If  we  let  everybody 
going  to  funerals  ride  free,"  again  spoke  the  conductor, 
"it  wouldn't  pay.  Besides,  it  would  be  encouraging  the 
funeral  business  in  a  way  that  would  cast  a  gloom  over 
the  entire  country.  Your  fare  is  a  dollar  and  a  half, 
madam."  "Well,"  retorted  the  old  lady,  drawing  out  a 
well-filled   purse,  "  I  think  you  might  let  me   go   free, 

'specially  as  I'm  going  to  a  double  funeral.     Mr.  ■ 's 

children  is.  both  dead,  and  they'll  be  buried  in  the  same 
grave,  I  reckon.  Oh  !  it's  a  turrible  blow  ! "  And  the 
old  lady,  wiping  her  eyes,  paid  her  fare.  As  the  con- 
ductor moved  on,  she  turned  to  a  passenger  and  re- 
marked, with  some  indignation,  "These  railroaders  is  the 
most  unfeeliri  folks  I  ever  seed." 

An  elegant  lady  entered  the  car,  addressing  the  con- 
ductor who  followed. 

"I  won't  go  except  in  a  ladies'  car;  the  regulations 
oblige  you  to  have  one,  and  you  shall." 

"  Certainly,  ma'am,  certainly.  I'll  order  one  imme- 
diately ;  but  that  baby  can't  go  in  it,  ma'am.  It  must 
stay  in  the  gentlemen's  car ;  it  is  a  male/" 

I  made  a  note  of  a  more  successful  attempt  that  came 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


293 


under  my  observation  at  a  busy  junction  on  a  Wisconsin 
road.  A  clean,  well-dressed  man  attempted  to  enter  the 
rear  car  of  the  train,  but  was  stopped  by  the  brakeman, 
and  told  to  go  to  the  next  car  forward,  as  the  rear  one  was 
reserved  for  ladies  and  gentlemen  accompanied  by  ladies. 
A  merry  twinkle  was  in  the  young  man's  eye,  as  he 
stepped  from  the  car  to  the  platform.  He  walked  straight 
to  a  robust  and  somewhat  remarkable  female  representa- 
tive from  the  land  of  shamrock,  and  very  courteously 
offered  to  assist  her  in  transporting  her  bundles,  which 
were  neither  few  nor  slight,  to  the  train.  The  words 
"  May  the  good  Lord  bless  your  honor,"  were  the  only 
ones  that  reached  me ;  but  it  was  evident  that  his  offices 
were  accepted.  Then,  after  some  conversation  in  an 
under-tone,  the  pair  who  had  so  recently,  and  in  plain 
view  of  Mr.  Brakeman,  become  travelling  companions, 
approached  the  forbidden  car.  When  about  to  enter,  the 
brakeman  interposed  his  person,  and  directed  him  to 
go  to  the  next  car.  The  man  insisted  that  his  lady  and 
himself  had,  under  the  rules  laid  down,  a  right  to  enter. 
The  brakeman  replied, 

"  It  is  not  your  lady." 

The  traveller,  turning  confidentially  to  his  new-found 
appendage,  asked,  in  the  most  winning  way : 

"  Arn't  you,  my  dear  ?  " 

(The  woman  had  cheeks  like  a  cheese-rind  and  a  nose 
like  a  piece  of  decayed  beefsteak.)  Clearly,  and  to  the 
point,  came  the  answer : 

"  Shure  I  am,  darlint." 

There  was  no  resisting  such  proofs,  and  the  pair 
marched  in  triumph  to  a  seat,  amid  roars  of  laughter 
from  the  passengers,  who  had  been  attentive  spectators 
of  the  scene. 


294 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


I  fell  in  with  a  naturalist  and  a  Baptist  deacon  on  the 
Union  Pacific  Road,  only  last  autumn.  They  made  a 
deal  of  sport,  but  one  incident  will  perhaps  suffice. 

"  Do  you  see  that  pretty  woman  in  there  ?  "  asked  the 
naturalist  of  the  deacon.  The  speaker  pointed  to  a 
neatly-dressed,  modest-appearing  lady,  who  was  eating 
with  the  other  passengers  at  one  of  the  feeding  stations. 

"  Yes,  what  of  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,  only  I'll  bet  you  a  new  hat  that  I'll  go 
in  and  kiss  her." 

"That's  nothing;  anybody  can  kiss  a  woman." 

"  But  I  never  saw  her  before.  I'll  agree  if  she  makes 
any  fuss  about  it,  to  pay  for  the  hat." 

"  Don't  you  know  her,  honest?" 

"  Upon  my  word." 

"  Never  saw  her  before  ?  " 

"  Never,  so  help  me." 

"  If  s  a  bet." 

The  naturalist  walked  up  to  the  lady,  put  his  face  down 
to  hers,  and  then  kissed  her  squarely  on  the  cheek.  To 
the  infinite  surprise  of  the  Baptist  deacon,  she  did  not  hit 
him  with  a  water  pitcher,  or  scream  "  murder."  She  sim- 
ply glanced  up  at  him,  blushed  a  little,  and  then  called 
for  another  bit  of  the  sliced  ham, 

"  Is  the  naturalist  among  women  what  Rarey  is  among 
horses  ? "  was  the  mental  inquiry  of  the  Baptist  deacon, 
in  connection  with  the  probable  price,  in  coin,  of  a  %\ 
hat  in  San  Francisco. 

I  took  the  New  York  and  Harlem  Road  at  Fourth 
avenue  and  Twenty-sixth  street  one  day,  and  shared  a 
seat  with  a  well-known  Doctor  of  Divinity.  He  is  a 
positive  man,  and  resents  an  insult  as  vehemently  as  a 
man  of  the  world.     Engaged  earnestly  in  conversation, 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


295 


he  handed  the  conductor  a  ticket,  as  he  came  to  collect 
the  fare.  The  conductor  did  not  move  on.  As  he  re- 
mained studying  the  ticket,  the  doctor's  attention  was 
attracted  toward  the  official,  who  appeared  to  be  highly 
interested  in  the  piece  of  pasteboard.  He  read  it, 
smiled,  shook  his  head,  and  finally  said  to  the  doctor : 

"  This  may  all  be  very  well,  but  the  ticket  is  not  good 
on  this  line." 

"  Whafs  the  reason  it's  not  good,  I  should  like  to 
know  ?  "  said  the  testy  doctor ;  "  I  bought  it  not  half  an 
hour  ago ! " 

"  I  guess  not,"  said  the  conductor.  The  altercation 
drew  the  attention  of  all  the  passengers.  "  This  is  very 
good  advice,  but  it  will  not  pass  you  over  this  line,"  and 
the  conductor  read  :  "  Thou  shalt  not  take  the  name  of 
the  Lord  thy  God  in  vain." 

An  explosion  followed,  amid  which  the  doctor  paid  his 
fare.  He  has  concluded  to  keep  his  religious  tickets  in 
a  separate  packet. 

I  give  the  next  incident  a  prominent  place  in  my  Diary, 
because  I  was  a  party  in  the  adventure. 

A  Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire,  man  hired  a  special 
train  in  Boston  for  $75.00,  and  upon  reaching  Newbury- 
port,  was  joined  by  a  clergyman  and  several  ladies,  who 
entered  the  car  without  invitation,  apparently  thinking  it 
a  regular  train.  The  rightful  tenant  of  the  train  said 
nothing,  except  to  ask  the  ladies'  permission  to  continue 
smoking.  The  minister  was  highly  incensed  at  this,  and 
after  reading  a  long  homily  on  the  evil  effects  of  tobacco, 
branched  off  on  the  impoliteness  to  his  "  fellow-men  and 
wimming,"  in  thus  smoking  in  a  public  conveyance. 
The  smoker  making  no  reply,  the  minister  became  en- 
raged, and  started  for   the  depot-master.     This   official 


296  ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 

entered  the  car  and  told  its  occupants  that  it  had  been 
hired  by  the  gentleman  who  was  using  the  weed,  who 
could  smoke,  drink,  chew,  or  stand  on  his  head  the  whole 
journey,  if  he  pleased,  and  if  the  people  in  the  car  didn't 
like  it,  they  could  wait  for  the  regular  train,  which  was 
coming  on  behind.  The  dominie  apologized,  amid  the 
titter  of  the  ladies. 

At  a  certain  railroad  station  on  our  route,  one  of  those 
beautiful  lessons  which  all  should  learn,  was  taught  in 
such  a  natural,  simple  way,  that  I  shall  never  forget  it. 
It  was  a  bleak,  snowy  day  ;  the  train  was  late,  the  ladies' 
waiting-room  dark  and  smoky,  and  the  dozen  women,  old 
and  young,  who  sat  impatiently  waiting,  all  looked  cross, 
stupid,  or  low-spirited.  Just  then  a  forlorn  old  woman, 
shaking  with  the  palsy,  came  in  with  a  basket  of  little 
wares  for  sale,  and  went  about  mutely  offering  them  to 
the  sitters.  Nobody  purchased,  and  the  poor  old  soul 
stood  blinking  at  the  door  a  moment,  as  if  reluctant  to  go 
out  again  into  the  bitter  storm.  Presently  she  turned  and 
poked  about  the  room,  as  if  in  search  for  something,  and 
then  a  pale  lady  in  black,  who  lay  as  if  asleep  on  a  sofa, 
opened  her  eyes,  saw  the  old  woman,  and  instantly  asked 
in  a  kind  voice — 

"  Have  you  lost  anything,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  No,  dear.  I'm  looking  for  the  heating  place  to  have 
a  warm  'fore  I  go  out  agin.  My  eyes  are  poor,  and  I 
don't  seem  to  find  the  furnace  anywhere." 

"  Here  it  is;"  and  the  lady  led  her  to  the  steam  radi- 
ator, placed  a  chair,  and  showed  her  how  to  warm  her 
feet. 

"Well,  now,  ain't   that  nice?"  said  the  old  woman, 

spreading  her  ragged  mittens  to  dry.     "Thankee,  dear; 

'this  is  proper  comfortable,  ain't  it?     I'm  most  froze  to- 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


297 


day,  bein'  lame  and  aching ;  and  not  selling  much  made 
me  sort  of  down-hearted." 

The  lady  smiled,  went  to  the  counter,  bought  a  cup  of 
tea  and  some  sort  of  food,  carried  it  herself  to  the  old 
woman,  and  said,  as  respectfully  and  kindly  as  if  the  poor 
old  soul  had  been  dressed  in  silk  and  fur,  "Won't  you 
have  a  cup  of  hot  tea  ?  It's  very  comforting  such  a  day 
as  this." 

"  Sakes  alive  !  Do  they  give  tea  at  this  depot  ?  "  cried 
the  old  lady  in  a  tone  of  innocent  surprise,  that  made  a 
smile  go  round  the  room,  touching  the  glummest  face 
like  a  streak  of  sunshine.  "  Well,  now,  this  is  just  lovely," 
added  the  old  lady,  sipping  away  with  a  relish.  "  That 
does  warm  my  heart." 

While  she  refreshed  herself,  telling  her  story  meanwhile, 
the  lady  looked  over  the  poor  little  wares  in  the  basket, 
bought  soap,  pins>  and  shoe-strings,  and  cheered  the  old 
soul  by  paying  well  for  them. 

As  my  companion  and  myself  watched  her  doing  this, 
we  thought  what  a  sweet  face  she  had,  though  it  seemed 
very  plain  before.  We  felt  much  ashamed  of  ourselves, 
that  we  had  grimly  shaken  our  heads  when  the  basket  had 
been  offered  us,  only  a  moment  before.  As  I  saw  a  look 
of  interest,  sympathy,  and  kindness  come  into  the  faces 
around  me,  I  wished  that  I  had  been  the  magician  to  call 
it  out.  It  was  only  a  kind  word  and  a  friendly  act,  but 
somehow  it  brightened  that  dingy  room.  It  changed  the 
faces  of  a  dozen  women,  and  I  think  it  touched  a  dozen 
hearts,  for  I  saw  many  eyes  follow  the  pale,  plain  lady  with 
sudden  respect.  When  the  old  woman  with  many  thanks 
got  up  to  go,  several  persons  beckoned  to  her  and  bought 
something,  as  if  they  wanted  to  repair  their  negligence. 

I  was  the  only  gentleman  present  to  be  impressed  by 
13* 


298 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


the  lady's  kind  act ;  so  it  was  not  done  for  effect.  No 
possible  reward  could  be  received  for  it,  save  the  thank's 
of  a  poor  old  woman.  But  that  simple  little  charity  was 
as  good  as  a  sermon,  and  I  think  each  traveller  resumed 
the  journey  better  for  that  half-hour  in  the  dreary  sta- 
tion. 

The  10.40  morning  train  on  the  New  York  Central  is 
the  express,  and  on  this  occasion  it  was  in  charge  of  Mr. 
Frank  Klock.  Two  men  got  on  board  at  Canastota,  and 
one  of  them  had  his  face  so  muffled  up,  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  catch  a  glimpse  of  any  portion  of  his  visage, 
save  his  eyes.  He  took  his  seat,  and  after  awhile,  paid 
his  fare  to  Utica.  Just  in  the  rear  of  the  muffled  individ- 
ual, sat  a  gentleman  occupied  with  his  newspaper.  As 
Klock  took  the  fare  the  reader  looked  up  and  asked : 

"  Conductor,  what  is  it  that  smells  so  ?  " 

"  I  don't  smell  anything  yet,  sir,"  was  the  reply. 

"  But  I  do.  Perhaps  it  is  this  paper  just  bought  of  the 
newsboy."  (And  he  smells  the  paper.)  "  It  smells  as  if 
— if  some  one  were  sick  ! " 

The  conductor  left  the  car,  and  thought  little  more  of 
the  matter,  but  the  passengers  took  the  suggestion,  and 
commenced  snuff,  snuff,  snuff,  and  the  most  uneasy  one 
of  all  was  the  inquiring  gentleman  who  sat  in  the  rear  of 
the  muffled  passenger.  The  conductor  returned,  and  as 
he  opened  the  door,  he  too  was  struck  with  the  singular 
odor  that  now  pervaded  the  car.  The  small-pox  was 
then  raging  in  some  of  the  Eastern  cities,  and  the  un- 
pleasant suggestion  at  once  flashed  upon  him  :  "  Possibly 
that  muffled  man  has  the  disease."  The  car  was  very 
warm,  yet  the  fellow  never  disturbed  his  wrappings.  The 
train  was  just  leaving  Oneida,  and  the  odor  grew  stronger. 
Klock  approached  the  man  and  inquired : 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


299 


"  What  ails  you,  sir  ?  " 

"Nothing,  sir." 

"  Are  you  not  sick  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  !  " 

"  But  your  face  is  broken  out,"  continued  Klock, 
"  and  I  believe  you  have  the  small-pox,  and  that  you  are 
the  cause  of  this  sickening  smell  in  the  car.  It  is  my 
duty  to  inform  the  passengers  that  I  think  you  have  the 
small-pox,  that  they  may  protect  themselves."  And  he 
sang  out — 

"  I  think  this  passenger  has  the  small-pox,  and  gentle- 
men had  better  obtain  seats  in  the  other  cars." 

This  was  enough.  The  inquiring  man  who  had  "snuffed" 
the  most  cleared  the  back  of  his  seat  at  a  single  bound. 
In  his  haste  and  terror  he  attempted  to  take  a  bee-line 
for  the  door  through  a  very  fat  old  lady  who  was  aiming 
in  the  same  direction.  The  remainder  of  the  passengers 
also  hurried  to  the  doors,  and  some  thirty  seconds  elapsed 
before  Klock  and  his  patient  were  left  alone.  At  Rome 
Mr.  Klock  telegraphed  to  Utica  that  the  city  authorities 
might  arrange  to  receive  their  distinguished  visitor  with 
proper  attention.  But  none  of  the  authorities  appeared, 
and  the  Central  cut  the  Gordian  knot  by  switching  the 
car  from  the  train  on  a  side-track,  where  Mr.  Small-pox 
was  left  alone.  The  Board  of  Health  finally  took  him  in 
charge. 

At  a  point  about  280  miles  east  of  Kansas  City,  an 
elderly  and  clerical-looking  individual  engaged  a  sleep- 
ing berth  on  our  train  for  that  city.  He  selected  the 
lower  berth  of  a  section,  the  upper  half  of  which  had  been 
engaged  by  two  dapper-looking  individuals,  who,  shortly 
after  the  train  started,  came  back  from  the  smoking-car 
and  took  seats  in  their  section.     The  trio  soon  struck 


3°o 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


up  a  travelling  acquaintance,  and  judging  from  the  pleas  - 
ant  expression  of  the  three  countenances,  this  acquaint- 
ance was  mutually  agreeable  and  profitable,  as  will  pres- 
ently be  seen. 

The  elderly  gentleman,  who  may  be  known  here  as 
Mr.  Greene,  was  a  retired  merchant  from  Central  New 
York,  on  his  way  West  to  invest  in  corner-lots  and  Kan- 
sas lands.  He  was  one  of  those  benignant  old  sun-flowers 
whose  smiles  beam  alike  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust ; 
whose  well-filled  pocket-book  is  always  forthcoming  to 
change  a  ten  or  a  twenty  for  some  casual  companion  who 
doesn't  happen  to  have  any  small  bills  about  him ;  and 
whose  worldly  goods  are  but  as  legitimate  spoils  for  the 
confidence  gentry — that  is  to  say,  judging  from  the  way 
he  appeared  to  me.  His  companions,  whom  I  will  call 
Sharpe  and  Ketchum,  were  of  that  class  to  be  met  with 
all  over  the  railroad  world,  fashionable  vagrants,  who 
travel  on  their  shape. 

By  and  by  the  conductor  of  the  Pullman  Palace  Car 
came  around  to  collect  his  fare  for  berths. 

The  elderly  gentleman,  being  first  in  order,  produced 
a  pocket-book,  at  once  well-worn  and  well-filled,  and 
paid  his  little  fare,  and  then  came  the  turn  of  the  other 
two.  Now,  Sharpe  had  plenty  of  money,  while  Ketchum, 
though  laden  with  exchange  on  New  York  and  Buffalo, 
had  run  out  of  currency.  Sharpe  paid  his  small  bill,  but 
Ketchum  ransacked  his  pocket-book  and  vest  pockets  in 
vain.  Sharpe  very  generously  offered  to  pay  his  com- 
panion's bill,  but  the  latter  wouldn't  hear  of  any  such 
sacrifices  on  the  part  of  his  friend.  He  would,  however, 
gladly  accept  cash  for  one  of  his  drafts,  if  Sharpe  would 
be  so  kind,  but  under  no  circumstances  would  he  accept 
any  other  favor.     It  transpired  that  Sharpe  would  be  so 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


30I 


kind.  So  Ketchum  produced  a  draft  purporting  to  be 
drawn  to  his  order  on  the  "  Commercial  National  Bank" 
of  Buffalo,  amounting  to  $157.40.  But  Sharpe  could  not 
make  the  change.  Would  the  elderly  gentleman  be  so 
unutterably  gracious  as  to  break  a  fifty  for  him.  Of 
course  he  would — but  he  couldn't.  But  a  happy  thought 
struck  Sharpe.  If  his  companion  had  such  delicate 
scruples  about  permitting  him  to  pay  his  bill,  perhaps  the 
elderly  gentleman  would  purchase  the  draft.  Certainly 
he  would  do  that,  but  investigation  revealed  that  he  had 
nothing  smaller  than  a  one-hundred-dollar  bill,  except 
some  desultory  change  the  conductor  had  given  him  for 
a  five  when  he  paid  his  bill.  Finally  Sharpe  and  Ketchum 
laid  their  heads  and  their  finances  together,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  making  up  a  purse  of  $203.40,  including  the 
draft  for  $157.40,  and  $40  currency,  whereat  the  elderly 
gentleman  gave  them  two  $100  notes  and  his  $3  in 
change — they  generously  "throwing  in"  the  40  cents — 
wherewith  Ketchum  paid  his  bill,  and  the  conductor  went 
on  his  way  rejoicing,  while  the  financiers  prepared  to  re- 
tire by  having  their  bunks  "  made  up." 

Morning  revealed  the  fact  that  Sharpe  and  Ketchum 
had  found  it  convenient  to  step  off  at  some  casual  station 
during  the  night,  though  the  elderly  gentleman  quietly 
enjoyed  his  regular  rest.  The  conductor,  fearing  from 
indications  that  his  passenger  had  been  swindled,  ap- 
proached him  and  said  : 

"  I  am  afraid  that  draft  you  got  last  night  was  a 
fraud." 

"  Well,"  was  the  bland  response  of  the  imperturbable 
Greene,  "I  presume  it  is,  but  if  it's  any  bigger  fraud  than 
the  two  $100  notes  were,  why  then  I  ain't  $53  in  good 
money  ahead,  which  I  think  I  am." 


302 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


He  added  that  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  passing  coun- 
terfeit money,  but  he  happened  to  have  them  with  him, 
and  having  measured  the  two  chaps  who  had  attempted 
to  swindle  him,  he  had  quietly  determined  to  beat  them 
at  their  own  game. 

"  If  you  want  anything  more,"  said  he,  "  to  make  this 
affair  satisfactory,  I  can  give  you  good  references,  either 
in  Kansas  City  or  New  York,  where  I  reside." 

We  didn't  demand  the  references. 

This  was  on  the  Omaha  express,  east,  on  the  Chicago 
and  Northwestern  Railway.  As  the  train  stopped  at  Round 
Grove,  a  small  station  about  ten  miles  west  of  Sterling, 
Illinois,  two  ladies,  one  of  them  carrying  a  baby  about 
eight  months  old,  got  aboard  the  train,  and  took  seats  in 
the  ladies'  car.  As  the  train  was  about  starting  again,  a 
German,  whom  we  subsequently  learned  was  named 
Henry  Bohlman,  the  husband  of  the  woman  with  the 
child,  stepped  aboard,  and  entered  the  ladies'  car.  Pass- 
ing along  the  aisle,  until  opposite  the  two  ladies,  he  sud- 
denly drew  a  revolver,  and  fired  at  his  wife,  who  still  held 
the  child  in  her  arms.  Fearing  he  had  not  succeeded  in 
his  hellish  work,  he  attempted  to  fire  the  second  time,  but 
was  seized  by  one  of  the  passengers  and  a  brakeman,  and 
the  revolver  taken  from  him.  He  was  secured  and  taken 
into  the  baggage-car,  where  he  was  carefully  guarded 
until  the  train  reached  Sterling,  when  he  was  handed 
over  to  the  proper  authorities.  On  examination  it  was 
found  that  the  lady  was  uninjured,  but  the  murder- 
ous ball  had  pierced  and  gone  entirely  through  both 
thighs  of  the  unfortunate  child,  causing  a  very  serious, 
though  not  fatal  wound.  The  man  expressed  himself 
as  very  sorry  that  he  had  missed  his  wife  and  hit  the 
child.     Conductor  Wilcox  afterwards  informed  us  that 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL.  303 

Bohlman  was  actuated  by  jealousy  and  the  usual  sus- 
picion. 

A  young  friend  in  Paris  was  telling  me  how  he  came 
by  his  German  wife.  While  travelling  in  that  country,  he 
took  the  road  from  Strasbourg  to  Berlin.  In  the  car- 
riage he  selected  were  four  other  persons,  two  mammas 
and  two  daughters.  The  two  mothers  were  face  to  face 
in  one  corner ;  the  young  man  took  the  opposite,  and 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  young  ladies.  He 
put  on  a  careless  and  absent  air.  The  collector  came  to 
demand  the  tickets.  The  young  man  paid  no  attention 
at  all,  when  the  request  was  many  times  repeated. 
Roused  at  last  from  his  reverie  in  presence  of  the  ladies, 
he  had  recourse  to  a  ruse,  to  avoid  exciting  ridicule. 

"What  are  you  saying,"  said  he.  "Why  do  you  not 
speak  French?" 

The  collector  then  explained  by  signs,  the  ticket  was 
examined,  and  the  young  man  returned  to  his  reverie ; 
but  not  to  enjoy  it  long,  for  this  time  the  young  ladies 
roused  him.     They  began  in  full  voice  : 

"This  young  man  is  a  very  handsome  one,"  said  one. 

"  Hist,  Bertha ! "  said  the  other,  in  a  sort  of  affright. 

"  Why,  he  doesn't  know  a  word  of  German,"  said  Ber- 
tha.   "  We  can  talk  freely.    What  do  you  think  of  him  ?  " 

"  Only  ordinary,"  was  the  reply. 

"You  are  difficult  to  please.  He  has  a  charming  figure 
and  genteel  air." 

"  He  is  too  pale,  and  besides,  you  know  I  do  not  like 
dark  men." 

"  And  you  know  I  prefer  dark  to  fair.  We  have  noth- 
ing but  fair  faces  in  Germany.  It  is  monotonous  and 
commonplace." 

"  You  forget  that  you  are  a  blonde." 


304 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


'  "  Oh,  for  woman  it  is  different.  He  has  nice  mus- 
taches." 

"  Bertha,  if  your  mother  should  hear  you ! " 

"  She  is  busy  with  her  talk  to  your  mother ;  besides,  it 
is  no  harm  to  speak  of  mustaches." 

"  I  prefer  the  light  mustaches  of  Albert." 

"I  understand  you  and  Albert  are  engaged;  but  I, 
who  am  without  a  lover,  am  free  to  exercise  my  opinions, 
and  as  free  to  say  that  this  young  man  has  beautiful 
eyes." 

"  They  have  no  expression,"  returned  the  other. 

" You  do  not  know.  I  am  sure  he  has  much  spirit; 
and  it  is  a  pity  he  does  not  speak  German ;  he  would 
chat  with  us." 

"Would  you  marry  a  Frenchman?  " 

"  Why  not,  if  he  looks  like  this  one,  and  was  spirited, 
well-born,  and  amiable?  But  I  can  hardly  keep  from 
laughing.     See,  he  doesn't  dream  what  we  are  saying." 

The  young  traveller  was  endowed  with  a  great  power 
of  self-control,  and  he  had  preserved  his  absent  and  inat- 
tentive air  all  the  time ;  and  while  the  dialogue  continued 
he  thought  what  curious  results  his  attempts  to  avert  a 
laugh,  by  pretending  not  to  know  German,  had  brought 
about.  He  looked  carefully  at  Bertha,  and  his  resolu- 
tion was  taken.  At  the  next  station  the  collector  came 
again  for  the  tickets,  when  the  young  man,  with  extra 
elaboration,  and  in  excellent  German,  said  : 

"Ah J  you  want  my  ticket.  Veiy  well — let  me  see  : 
I  believe  it  is  in  my  porte?nonnaie.     Oh,  yes ;  here  it  is  ! " 

The  effect  was  startling.  Bertha  became  nearly  sense- 
less, but  soon  recovered  under  the  polite  apologies  of  the 
young  Frenchman.  They  were  pleased  with  each  other ; 
and  in  a  few  weeks  Bertha  ratified  her  good  opinion  of 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


305 


the  young  man,  and  gave  a  practical  proof  of  her  willing- 
ness to  wed  a  Frenchman. 

I  found  that  they  have  a  queer  way  of  doing  things 
matrimonial,  down  in  Cave  City,  where,  just  before  our 
arrival,  the  Grand  Duke  had  taken  his  Kentucky  hash. 
David  Brown  is  a  rollicking  son  of  Kentucky,  a  true  type 
of  the  independent  village  or  country  youth,  who  is  just 
entering  upon  his  maturity.  Maria  Martin  is,  or  was,  a 
village  maiden  of  some  charms,  and  a  good  deal  of  spirit 
and  Kentucky  grit.  David  and  Maria  courted  and  loved 
and  agreed  to  marry ;  for  the  fair  lady  told  us  all  about 
it  herself.  For  some  reason,  David  put  off  the  sol- 
emnization of  the  nuptials  from  time  to  time,  until  Maria's 
patience  became  exhausted.  Meeting  her  lover  one  day, 
she  said  to  him,  with  more  emphasis  than  elegance  : 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Dave ;  you've  got  to  dry  up  this 
nonsense,  and  quit  this  foolin.'  It's  about  time  we  was 
married ;  and  I  want  you  to  come  to  time." 

"Dave"  thought  he  would  come  to  time;  but  as  the 
parties  had  met  on  the  platform  of  the  depot  at  Cave 
City,  David  was  at  a  loss  to  know  where  he  and  Maria 
would  have  the  ceremony  performed.  Maria's  wits  were 
sharp  enough  for  the  emergency,  and  so  she  told  David 
she  would  provide  a  place,  and  started  him  off  to  the 
county  clerk  for  the  necessary  license. 

During  his  absence,  Maria  entered  the  depot,  and 
asked  the  station-agent  for  the  privilege  of  being  married 
on  the  platform  in  front  of  the  depot. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  polite  agent ;  "  or  right  here 
in  the  depot,  if  you  prefer.  But  here  comes  the  passen- 
ger ;  hadn't  you  better  wait  till  it  goes  by  ?  " 

"  No,  not  if  '  Dave '  hurries  up ;  can't  wait  for  nothing. 
We'll  take  the  platform  here." 


3<d6  ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 

David  soon  returned  with  the  license,  accompanied  by 
his  brother,  who  swore  the  wedding  should  not  take 
place.  We  arrived  and  were  informed  of  what  was  going 
on,  just  as  the  brother  was  using  cuss  words,  and  drew  a 
pistol,  which  fairly  riled  David,  who  also  flirted  out  a  re- 
volver. He  would  have  demolished  the  interfering 
brother  but  for  the  interposition  of  the  passengers,  who 
hustled  the  offender  into  the  baggage-room,  away  from 
the  scene. 

The  marriage  then  took  place,  the  parties  standing  out 
in  the  cold  upon  the  platform,  while  the  ceremony  was 
being  performed.  David  rather  enjoyed  the  novelty  of 
the  affair.  "  By  gosh,  this  is  bully,  ain't  it,  Mariar  ?  "  he 
exclaimed.  "You  bet,  Dave,"  responded  Maria,  and 
then  the  happy  pair  went  on  their  way  rejoicing.  Long 
life  to  them,  and  may  their  tribe  increase. 

On  the  cars  going  from  Providence  to  Boston,  we 
found  a  well-known  magician  and  ventriloquist,  whom  I 
will  name  Fritz.  The  conductor  came  around  to  collect 
the  fare.  The  magician,  who  was  busily  engaged  reading 
a  newspaper  at  the  time,  did  not  notice  what  was  going 
on,  until  he  heard  the  words,  "  Your  fare,  sir."  He 
quietly  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  drew  forth  a  silver 
dollar,  of  a  peculiar  denomination,  and  quickly  handed  it 
to  the  conductor,  that  being  the  amount  of  the  fare.  The 
conductor,  pleased  at  coming  in  possession  of  so  accepta- 
ble a  pocket  piece,  placed  it  hurriedly  in  his  pocket  and 
moved  on.     On  his  return,  Fritz  stopped  him  and  said  : 

"  In  passing  you  my  fare,  sir,  I  made  a  great  mistake. 
I  was  busy  reading,  and  did  not  notice  that  I  gave  you  a 
silver  coin,  which  was  given  me  as  a  keepsake,  by  an 
intimate  friend.  Please  redeem  it,  and  I  will  pay  my  fare 
in  currency." 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL.  307 

"  Certainly,  sir,  with  the  greatest  of  pleasure,"  at  the 
same  time  reaching  in  his  pocket.  After  fumbling  around 
there  for  some  time,  and  not  finding  it,  he  changed  color 
and  was  much  embarrassed,  lest  the  passenger  might 
think  he  was  deceiving  him.  The  other  passengers,  see- 
ing the  conductor  looking  so  confused,  began  to  gather 
around  to  see  what  the  excitement  was  about.  After  the 
magician  had  puzzled  him  for  some  time,  he  placed  his 
hand  in  his  own  vest  pocket,  and  brought  forth  the  same 
silver  dollar.     The  conductor  was  thunderstruck. 

"  I  would  like  to  know,  sir,  how  you  got  that  piece  out 
of  my  pocket,  without  my  knowledge  ?  " 

"  You  did  not  put  it  in  your  pocket,"  was  the  reply ; 
"  I  took  it  from  your  hand  before  it  reached  your  pocket." 

The  conductor  was  puzzled,  and  warned  the  passen- 
gers to  avoid  the  man.  At  this  juncture,  one  old  man 
cried  out — "  Gentlemen,  I  am  robbed  of  every  dollar  ! " 
"  Begorra,"  yelled  an  Irishman,  "  sthop  the  train  ;  Biddy's 
money  is  gone  ! " 

A  green-looking  Yankee,  on  his  way  from  Chicago  to 
Vermont,  sings  out  on  looking  at  his  pocket-book  :  "  Well, 
I'll  be  gol  darned,  what  became  of  my  two  dollars  and 
sixteen  cents,  I  had  when  I  left  Chicago  ?  I  thought  I 
left  all  thieves  there,  but  there's  some  of 'em  on  this  train." 

An  old  woman  sitting  in  the  rear  of  Fritz,  on  discover- 
ing the  loss  of  her  money,  cried  out :  "  My  God,  what 
shall  I  do  ?  I  am  a  ruined  woman."  Then  the  children 
set  up  one  of  the  most  unearthly  yells  that  I  ever  heard. 
Taking  all  together,  there  never  was  such  a  scene  on  a 
train  of  cars  before.  After  the  cunning  showman  had 
advertised  himself  sufficiently,  he  turned  to  the  conductor 
with  the  remark : 

"I  guess  there  has  been  no  passengers   sacked;  I 


308 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


was  merely  testing  my  ventriloquial  powers;"  at  the 
same  time  pulling  out  his  pocket-book  to  pay  his  fare  and 
redeem  his  silver  dollar. 

A  young  English  lady  who  was  in  our  party  on  the 
Continent,  being  called  upon  for  a  concluding  tale  of  the 
train,  communicated  the  following  adventure  : 

"  Although,"  she  commenced,  "  I  am  often  compelled 
to  travel  without  a  companion,  yet  have  I  such  a  dislike 
for  sick  folk  and  babies,  that  I  never  made  a  journey  in  a 
ladies'  carriage.  Only  once,  however,  have  I  suffered  any 
inconvenience  through  my  unprotected  condition,  and  that 
exception  occurred  on  this  very  line.  After  I  had  taken 
my  seat  one  morning  at  Paddington,  in  an  empty  carriage, 
I  was  joined  just  as  the  train  was  moving  off,  by  a  strange- 
looking  young  man,  with  remarkably  long  hair.  He  was 
of  course  a  little  hurried,  but  he  seemed  besides  to  be  so 
disturbed  and  wild,  that  I  was  quite  alarmed  for  fear  of 
his  not  being  in  his  right  mind,  nor  did  his  subsequent 
conduct  quite  reassure  me.  Our  train  was  an  express, 
and  he  inquired  eagerly,  at  once,  which  was  the  first  sta- 
tion whereat  we  were  advertised  to  stop.  I  consulted 
my  Bradshaw,  and  furnished  him  with  the  required  in- 
formation. It  was  Reading.  The  young  man  looked  at 
his  watch. 

"  '  Madam,'  said  he,  '  there  is  but  half  an  hour  between 
me,  and,  it  may  be,  ruin.  Excuse  me,  therefore,  for  my 
abruptness.  You  have,  I  perceive,  a  pair  of  scissors  in 
your  work-bag.  Oblige  me,  if  you  please,  by  cutting  off 
all  my  hair.' 

"  '  Sir,'  said  I,  '  it  is  impossible.' 

"  '  Madame,'  he  urged,  and  a  look  of  severe  determina- 
tion crossed  his  features,  '  I  am  a  desperate  man.  Be- 
ware how  you  refuse  me  what  I  ask.     Cut  my  hair  off 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


309 


close  to  the  roots — immediately,  and  here  is  a  newspaper 
to  hold  the  ambrosial  curls.' 

"  I  thought  he  was  mad,  of  course,  and  believing  that 
it  would  be  dangerous  to  thwart  him,  I  cut  off  all  his  hair 
to  the  last  lock. 

"  '  Now,  madam,'  said  he,  unlocking  a  small  portman- 
teau, '  you  will  further  oblige  me  by  looking  out  of  the 
window,  as  I  am  about  to  change  my  clothes.' 

"  Of  course  I  looked  out  of  the  window  for  a  very 
considerable  time,  and  when  he  observed,  '  Madam,  I 
need  no  longer  put  you  to  any  inconvenience,'  I  did  not 
recognize  the  young  man  in  the  least. 

"  Instead  of  his  former  rather  gay  costume,  he  was  at- 
tired in  black,  and  wore  a  gray  wig  and  silver  spectacles. 
He  looked  like  a  respectable  divine  of  the  Church  of 
England,  of  about  sixty-four  years  of  age.  To  complete 
that  character,  he  held  a  volume  of  sermons  in  his  hand, 
which  might  have  been  his  own. 

" '  I  do  not  wish  to  threaten  you,  young  lady,'  he  re- 
sumed, '  and  I  think  besides,  that  I  can  trust  your  kind 
face.  Will  you  promise  me  not  to  reveal  this  metamor- 
phosis until  your  journey's  end?  ' 

"  '  I  will,'  said  I,  '  most  certainly.' 

"  At  Reading,  the  guard  and  a  person  in  plain  clothes 
looked  into  our  carriage. 

"  '  You  have  the  ticket,  my  love,'  said  the  young  man 
blandly,  and  looking  at  me  as  though  he  were  my  father. 

"  '  Never  mind,  sir ;  we  don't  want  them,'  said  the  offi- 
cial, and  he  withdrew  with  his  companion. 

"  '  I  shall  now  leave  you,  madam,'  observed  my  fellow- 
traveller,  as  soon  as  the  coast  was  clear.  '  By  your  kind 
and  courageous  conduct,  you  have  saved  my  life,  and 
perhaps  even  your  own.' 


310  ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 

"  In  another  minute  he  was  gone,  and  the  train  was  in 
motion.  Not  till  the  next  morning  did  I  learn  from  the 
papers,  that  the  gentleman  on  whom  I  had  operated  as 
hair-cutter,  had  committed  forgery  to  an  enormous 
amount,  in  London,  a  few  hours  before  I  met  him,  and 
that  he  had  been  tracked  into  the  express  car  at  Pad- 
dington.  Also,  that,  although  the  telegraph  had  been 
put  in  motion  and  described  him  accurately — at  Read- 
ing, when  the  train  was  searched,  he  was  nowhere  to  be 
found." 

As  the  Sabbath  is  a  living  subject  of  speculation  and 
thought  among  us,  it  should  be  recorded  here,  that  Sab- 
bath-keeping pays.  All  honor  to  the  Pennsylvania  Cen- 
tral Railway  Company,  in  the  attempt  of  its  directors  to 
give  its  employes  the  blessings  of  the  Sabbath. 

We  left  Cincinnati  on  Saturday  morning  for  a  rapid 
journey  to  New  York,  and  return.  Before  midnight  on 
Saturday,  Altoona  was  reached,  and  there  we  were  to 
rest  on  the  Sabbath-day,  according  to  the  command- 
ment. This  is  the  city  where  locomotives  keep  Sabbath 
— where  freight  trains  rest  on  the  Lord's  day,  and,  as  a 
consequence,  where  engineers,  and  brakemen,  and  rail- 
road hands  of  all  grades,  are  both  permitted  and  encour- 
aged to  enjoy  Sabbath  repose  and  its  needful  relaxation. 

It  is  as  grateful  a  feeling  as  it  is  strange,  to  awake  on 
a  Sunday  morning  in  quietness — scarcely  a  sound  stirring 
— amid  a  population  of  twelve  thousand,  who  all  the 
week  are  driving  the  immense  work  of  the  Pennsylvania 
Central,  or  hurrying  in  attendance  on  trains  which  pass 
every  few  minutes,  both  day  and  night.  On  Sunday  the 
laboring  air  is  still ;  those  terrible  shrieks  and  whistles  of 
locomotives,  which  tear  the  atmosphere  to  pieces  all  the 
week,  are  hushed.     There  is  no  roar  of  trains,  no  roll 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


3" 


of  engines,  no  groaning  of  escaped  steam.  The  Sabbath 
stillness  is  scarcely  broken,  except  by  Sabbath  bells. 
One  passenger  train  passes,  I  believe,  each  way  in  the 
early  morning  and  in  the  evening  ;  but  we  saw  no  freight 
trains  moving.  We  counted  thirteen  freight  trains  stand- 
ing on  the  tracks  in  front  of  the  Logan  House. 

The  result  of  this  policy  is  according  to  God's  law 
and  promise,  but,  of  course,  equally  according  to  a  nat- 
ural law.  Workmen  of  a  higher  moral  calibre  are  se- 
cured. The  men  are  faithful,  have  more  physical  endur- 
ance, and  more  spirit  than  when  their  powers  are  over- 
taxed by  seven  days'  labor  in  every  week.  An  accident 
on  this  road  is  very  rare  ;  and  the  profits  are  rolling  up 
by  millions.  It  is  not  my  purpose  to  encourage  people 
to  keep  the  Lord's  day  because  of  the  profit  it  brings,  al- 
though there  is  no  question  about  it.  God's  word  never 
has  failed,  and  never  will.  His  sanction  of  Sabbath  ob- 
servance is  merely  an  interpretation  of  an  invariable 
natural  law.  But  all  that  I  desire  is  to  put  the  facts  side 
by  side.  Railroad  men  can  decide  for  themselves  how 
nearly  they  are  related  as  cause  and  effect. 

My  Diary  would  be  incomplete  without  a  brief  sketch 
of  the  Railway  Hog ;  the  small-souled,  selfish  brute,  who 
pays  grudgingly  for  one  seat,  and  strains  his  wits  to  hold 
two.  "  This  seat  is  taken,  sir,"  tells  his  story.  My  par- 
ticular hog  wore  a  plug  hat  with  a  genuine  Boston  gloss, 
and  enamelled  shirt,  with  closely  cropped,  iron-gray  beard. 
I  know  his  kind.  He  is  an  eminently  respectable  beast, 
who  always  pays  his  debts  promptly,  takes  an  interest  in 
Sunday-schools,  administrates  his  dead  brother's  children 
out  of  their  patrimony,  is  the  president  of  joint-stock 
companies,  and  has  biographical  eulogies  published  in  the 
papers  when  he  finally  kicks  the  bucket.     I  knew  the 


312  ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 

hog  lied  when  he  said,  "  This  seat  is  taken,  sir,"  and 
watched  him  to  see  how  many  times  he  would  reproduce 
the  falsehood.  The  coach  was  rather  full,  and,  would 
you  believe  it,  that  miserable  hog  told  sixteen  separate 
and  distinct  lies  in  order  to  gratify  his  mean  selfishness. 
Enough  to  sink  a  healthier  soul  to  perdition.  He  varied 
the  formula ;  one  time  it  was  a  wave  of  the  hand  and 
look  to  the  rear  of  the  car,  to  indicate  that  the  holder  of 
the  seat  had  gone  for  a  drink  of  water  and  would  be  back 
soon. 

When  questioned  another  time,  by  a  timid,  mild-man- 
nered passenger,  he  replied  by  a  stolid  stare,  and  then 
spreading  himself  a  little  wider,  he  resumed  the  perusal 
of  his  newspaper.  I  was  tempted  to  crawl  behind  him, 
and  say  in  his  ear,  "You're  an  awful  liar;"  but  my  re- 
venge came  by  and  by. 

A  big,  red-faced  two-hundred-pounder,  in  a  dirty  linen 
coat,  came  in  at  a  way-station.  He  was  sweaty  to  a 
fearful  degree.  His  feet  smelt  like  a  valerianate  of  am- 
monia and  rotten  fish,  and  his  breath  was  a  hot,  stinking 
sirocco,  based  on  bad  whiskey  and  onions.  This  fiery 
and  fragrant  behemoth  preferred  to  settle  himself  in  the 
seat  that  was  taken.  "  This  seat  is — "  began  the  hog. 
"Well,  I  guess  I'll  take  it  till  the  other  fellow  comes,"  re- 
turned the  sweet-stinking  heavy-weight,  and  down  he 
plumped,  partially  crushing  the  hog  in  his  descent.  The 
latter  frowned  and  began  to  bluster,  but  the  red-faced 
ruffian  soon  took  that  out  of  him  with  a  threat  to  swallow 
him  whole — to  chaw  him  up  and  spit  him  out — to  pitch 
him  out  of  the  window — to  go  through  him  like  a  dose  of 
salts,  and  to  make  various  dispositions  of  him  in  case  he 
didn't  simmer  down.  Our  porcine  friend  simmered,  and 
then  the  barbarian  grew  good-humored.     He  told  funny 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


313 


anecdotes  and  poked  the  hog  in  the  ribs.  He  wanted 
to  know  where  he  came  from  and  where  he  was  going. 
He  spat  quarts  of  tobacco  juice  across  him  out  of  the 
window,  spattering  his  shirt-front,  between  his  boots  and 
all  around.  He  offered  him  a  "  chaw,"  every  time  he 
took  out  his  plug  of  navy.  The  hog  perspired  freely, 
and  shivered  with  disgust.  Finally  he  crawled  out  and 
stood  up  for  forty  miles,  until  another  seat  was  vacant. 

We  were  on  the  Overland  train,  bound  for  San  Fran- 
cisco, with  Littlejohn  as  conductor.  Among  the  passen- 
gers was  a  young  man,  possessed  of  a  judicious  spirit  of 
economy  and  a  pardonable  share  of  vanity.  The  judici- 
ous economy  was  made  manifest  to  the  other  occupants  of 
the  car,  by  the  fact  that  the  young  man  wore  plain  cloth- 
ing and  a  single  Cheviot  shirt,  all  the  way  from  Chicago. 
How  the  pardonable  vanity  became  apparent,  is  where 
the  joke  comes  in.  He  had  been  to  the  East  on  a 
visit,  and  the  girl  he  left  behind  had  been  notified  in  ad- 
vance of  his  approach,  and  in  company  with  a  few  other 
friends,  was  to  meet  him  at  Niles  station. 

Visions  of  rapture  floated  through  his  brain,  and  seat- 
ing himself  in  a  secluded  corner  of  the  car,  he  poured 
forth  his  spirit's  gladness  in  a  rush  of  melody,  somewhat 
as  thus : 

"  Home  again,  home  again, 

From  a  foh-hoh-reign  shore  : 
And  oh  !  it  fills  my  so-o-ul  with  joy, 
To  me-he-eat  my  friends  once  more." 

Suddenly  he  hushed  his  notes  of  joy,  and  reached  for- 
ward for  his  carpet-bag. 

The  appalling  idea  flashed  across  his  mind  that  the 
shirt  which  had  done  him  so  much  good  service — which 
14 


3H 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


had  clung  to  him  during  the  toilsome  journey  across  two 
thousand  miles  of  mountain,  plain,  and  desert — was  not 
exactly  the  thing  to  appear  in  when  one  wished  to  inten- 
sify an  already  good  impression.  It  certainly  wouldn't 
be  the  clean  thing,  he  said  to  himself — it  wouldn't  be 
justice  to  the  shirt.  So  he  resolved  to  change.  But 
how?  The  car  contained  several  lady  passengers,  and1 
they  watched  everything  that  was  going  on  around  them, 
with  an  assiduity  that  did  honor  to  the  sex.  "Ah!  ha  ! 
str-rr-fategy,  my  boy  !  "  said  this  resolute  young  man  unto 
himself.  "  The  tunnel — we  are  approaching  the  tunnel. 
With  good  management  I  can  do  the  deed  in  the  long 
tunnel  just  beyond  Sunol;"  and  with  a  heavenly  smile 
upon  his  manly  features  he  gracefully  lifted  his  carpet- 
bag from  the  floor,  unlocked  it,  and  drew  forth  a  snowy 
shirt,  with  nice  frilled  bosom.  Then  from  another  recess 
he  drew  a  little  packet  containing  a  pair  of  handsome 
sleeve-buttons  and  a  set  of  studs,  which  were  quickly  ad- 
justed in  their  proper  places.  Casting  a  careful  glance 
from  the  window,  he  saw  that  the  train  was  not  far  from 
the  tunnel  where  the  metamorphosis  was  to  take  place, 
and  so  he  turned  his  back  upon  the  other  passengers,  and 
began  to  loosen  sundry  buttons — in  short,  prepared  to 
shuck  himself.  Presently  the  eventful  moment  came. 
The  iron  horse  plunged  into  the  dark  recesses  of  the  tun- 
nel, and  the  car  was  shrouded  in  impenetrable  darkness. 
Presently  a  ray  of  light  gleamed  in  fantastic  shapes  along 
the  rugged  wall  of  the  tunnel,  and  by  its  faint  glimmer  a 
struggling  figure  was  discernible  in  the  direction  of  the 
young  man's  seat.  As  the  light  became  stronger,  its  gy- 
rations grew  more  frantic.  Its  great  long  arms,  incased 
in  white,  thrashed  wildly  about  as  though  in  the  agony  of 
despair  ;  and  finally  when,  with  a  shriek  of  joy,  the  engine 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL.  3  \  5 

dashed  out  into  the  dazzling  sunlight,  it  sank  down  into 
its  seat,  apparently  crushed  with  mortification  and  cha- 
grin. 

The  ladies  screamed  with  terror,  and  hid  their  blushes 
at  the  unusual  apparition.  Strong  men  crushed  their 
handkerchiefs  into  their  mouths,  and  nearly  choked  with 
emotion.  The  figure  reclined  motionless  upon  the  soft 
cushion,  until  some  one  with  more  courage  than  the  rest 
advanced  to  ascertain  who  and  what  it  was.  Finally  the 
terrible  truth  was  revealed.  The  white  covering  was 
lifted,  and  from  beneath  appeared  the  features  of  our 
young  friend,  clothed  with  carnation's  richest  hue.  The 
mystery  was  soon  explained.  He  had  gotten  the  Cheviot 
off,  but  alas  !  in  his  hurry  and  excitement  he  had  forgot- 
ten to  undo  the  collar  fastening  of  the  elegant  white- 
frilled  front.     Horror  !  it  would  not  go  over  his  head  ! 

On  my  way  from  Providence  to  Boston  I  came  across 
what  struck  me  as  a  very  singular  genius.  This  was  a 
stout,  black-whiskered  man  who  sat  immediately  in  front 
of  me,  and  who  indulged  from  time  to  time  in  the  most 
singular  manoeuvres.  Every  now  and  then,  he  would 
get  up  and  hurry  away  to  the  narrow  passage  which  leads 
to  the  door  in  these  drawing-room  cars,  and  when  he 
thought  himself  secure  from  observation,  would  fall  to 
laughing  in  the  most  violent  manner,  and  continue  the 
healthful  exercise  until  his  face  was  as  red  as  a  lobster. 
As  we  neared  Boston,  these  demonstrations  increased  in 
violence,  save  that  the  stranger  no  longer  ran  away  to 
laugh,  but  kept  his  seat,  and  chuckled  away  to  himself, 
with  his  chin  down  deep  in  his  shirt  collar. 

But  the  changes  those  portmanteaus  underwent !  He 
moved  them  there,  here,  everywhere  ;  he  put  them  beside 
him,  in  front  of  him,  and  beneath.     He  was  evidently 


316  ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 

getting  ready  to  leave,  but  as  we  were  yet  25  miles  from 
Boston,  the  idea  of  such  early  preparations  was  ridicu- 
lous. If  we  had  entered  the  city  then,  the  mystery  would 
have  remained  unsolved,  but  the  stranger  at  last  became 
so  excited,  that  he  could  keep  his  seat  no  longer.  Some 
one  must  help  him,  and  as  I  was  the  nearest,  he  selected 
me.  Suddenly  turning,  as  if  I  had  asked  a  question,  he 
said,  rocking  himself  to  and  fro  in  his  chair,  and  slapping 
his  legs — 

"  Been  gone  three  years !  Yes,  been  in  Europe. 
Folks  don't  expect  me  for  six  months  yet,  but  I  got 
through  and  started  !  I  telegraphed  them  at  the  last  sta- 
tion ;  they've  got  it  by  this  time." 

As  he  said  this,  he  changed  the  portmanteau  on  his 
left  to  the  right,  and  the  one  on  the  right  to  the  left  again. 

"  Got  a  wife  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Yes,  and  three  children."  Then  he  got  up  and  folded 
his  overcoat  anew,  and  hung  it  over  the  back  of  the  seat. 

"  You  are  pretty  nervous  over  the  matter,  ain't  you  ?  " 
I  said,  watching  his  fidgety  movements. 

"  Well,  I  should  think  so,"  he  replied  ;  "  I  hain't  slept 
soundly  for  a  week.  And  do  you  know,"  he  went  on, 
glancing  around  at  the  passengers  and  speaking  in  a  low 
tone,  "  I'm  almost  certain  the  train  will  run  off  the  track 
and  break  my  neck,  before  I  get  to  Boston.  Well,  the  fact 
is,  I've  had  too  much  good  luck  for  one  man  lately.  The 
thing  can't  last ;  'taint  natural  that  it  should,  you  know. 
I've  watched  it.  First  it  rains,  then  it  shines,  then  it 
rains  again.  It  rains  as  hard,  you  think  it's  never'  going 
to  stop ;  then  it  shines  so  bright,  you  think  it's  always 
going  to  shine  ;  and  just  as  you're  settled  to  either  belief, 
you  are  knocked  over  by  a  change,  to  show  you  that  you 
know  nothing  about  it  at  all." 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL.   31  j 

"  Well,  according  to  this  philosophy,"  said  I,  "  you  will 
continue  to  have  sunshine,  because  you  are  expecting  a 
storm  ! " 

"It's  curious,"  he  replied,  "but  the  only  thing  that 
makes  me  think  I'll  get  through  safe  is,  because  I  think  I 
won't." 

"  Well,  that  is  curious,"  I  rejoined. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  I'm  a  machinist — made  a  discov- 
ery— nobody  believed  in  it — spent  all  my  money  try- 
ing to  bring  it  out — mortgaged  my  home — all  went. 
Everybody  laughed  at  me — everybody  but  my  wife — 
spunky  little  woman — said  she  would  work  her  fingers  off 
before  I  should  give  it  up.  Went  to  England — no  better 
there — came  within  an  ace  of  jumping  off  London  Bridge. 
Went  into  a  shop  to  earn  money  enough  to  come  home 
with  ;  there  I  met  the  man  I  wanted.  To  make  a  long 
story  short,  I've  brought  ^30,000  with  me,  and  the  best 
of  it  is,  she  don't  know  anything  about  it.  I've  fooled 
her  so  often,  and  disappointed  her  so  much,  that  I  just 
concluded  I  would  say  nothing  about  this.  When  I  got 
my  money,  though,  you  better  believe  I  struck  a  bee-line 
for  home." 

"  And  now  you  will  make  her  happy  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Happy  !"  he  replied  ;  "  why,  you  don'tknow anything 
about  it.  She  worked  like  a  dog  while  I  have  been  gone, 
trying  to  support  herself  and  the  children  decently.  They 
paid  her  thirteen  cents  apiece  for  making  coarse  shirts, 
and  that's  the  way  she'd  live  half  the  time.  She'll  come 
down  there  to  meet  me  in  a  gingham  dress  and  a  shawl 
a  hundred  years  old,  and  she'll  think  she's  dressed  up.  Oh 
she  won't  have  no  clothes  after  this  ;  oh  no,  I  guess  not." 
And  with  these  words,  which  implied  that  his  wife's  ward- 
robe would  soon  rival  Queen  Victoria's,  the  stranger  tore 


318  ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 

down  the  passage-way  again,  and  getting  in  his  old  cor- 
ner, where  he  thought  himself  out  of  sight,  went  through 
the  strangest  pantomime ;  laughing,  putting  his  mouth  in- 
to the  drollest  shapes,  and  then  swinging  himself  back 
and  forth  in  the  limited  space,  as  if  he  were  walking  down 
Broadway,  a  full-rigged  metropolitan  belle. 

And  so  on,  until  we  rolled  into  the  depot,  and  I  placed 
myself  on  the  other  car,  opposite  the  stranger,  who,  with 
a  portmanteau  in  each  hand,  had  descended  on  the  lower 
step,  ready  to  jump  to  the  platform.  I  looked  from  his 
face  to  the  faces  of  the  people  below  us,  but  saw  no  sign 
of  recognition.  Suddenly  he  cried,  "  There  they  are ! " 
and  laughed  outright,  but  in  an  hysterical  sort  of  a  way, 
as  he  looked  over  the  crowd.  I  followed  his  eye,  and 
saw  some  distance  back  a  little  woman  in  a  faded  dress 
and  well-worn  hat.  She  was  crowded  out,  as  it  were, 
shouldered  away,  by  the  well-dressed  and  elbowing  throng. 
As  she  glanced  rapidly  from  window  to  window,  as  the 
coaches  glided  in,  the  face  was  almost  painful  in  its  in- 
tense, but  hopeless  expression. 

She  had  not  yet  seen  the  stranger,  but  in  a  moment 
after  she  caught  his  eye,  and  in  another  instant  he  had 
jumped  to  the  platform,  with  his  two  portmanteaus,  and 
making  a  hole  in  the  crowd,  pushing  one  here  and  there, 
and  running  one  of  his  bundles  plump  into  the  perspec- 
tive of  a  very  fat  old  gentleman  in  spectacles,  he  rushed 
toward  the  place  where  she  was  standing.  I  think  I  never 
saw  a  face  assume  so  many  different  expressions  in  as 
short  a  time,  as  did  that  of  the  little  woman  while  her 
busband  was  on  his  way  to  her.  She  was  not  to  say 
handsome,  but  somehow  I  felt  a  big  lump  rise  in  my  throat 
as  I  watched  her.  She  was  trying  to  laugh,  but  God 
bless  her  !  how  completely  she  failed  in  the  attempt.  Her 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


319 


mouth  got  into  position  ;  but  it  never  moved  after  that, 
save  to  draw  down  the  corners  and  quiver,  while  she 
blinked  her  eyes  so  fast,  that  I  suspect  she  only  caught 
glimpses  of  the  broad-shouldered  fellow  who  elbowed  his 
way  toward  her.  And  then,  as  he  drew  close,  and  drop- 
ped those  everlasting  portmanteaus,  she  just  turned  com- 
pletely around  with  her  back  toward  him,  and  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands.  The  strong  man  then  gathered 
her  up  as  though  she  had  been  a  baby,  and  held  her  to  his 
breast. 

There  were  enough  gaping  at  them,  Heaven  knows, 
and  for  a  moment  I  turned  my  eyes  away.  Then  I  saw 
two  boys  in  threadbare  roundabouts  standing  near,  wip- 
ing their  eyes  and  noses  on  their  little  coat-sleeves,  and 
bursting  out  anew  at  every  fresh  demonstration  on  the 
part  of  their  mother.  When  I  looked  at  the  stranger 
again,  he  had  drawn  his  hat  down  over  his  eyes.  But 
the  wife  was  looking  up  at  him,  and  it  seemed  that  the 
pent-up  tears  of  those  weary  months  of  waiting  were 
streaming  through  her  eyelids. 

I  had  occasion  to  make  a  hurried  professional  trip  to 
the  next  city  on  our  line.  There  had  been  an  accident 
up  north  somewhere,  a  broken  engine,  if  I  remember 
correctly,  so  that  when  the  train  arrived  at  our  station 
behind  time,  there  were  few  seats  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  crowd  that  awaited  its  arrival.  Then  followed, 
what  is  witnessed  in  no  other  country,  a  grand  American 
rush ! 

The  experienced  traveller  never  rushes  ;  so  I  found 
myself  obliged  to  take  a  back  seat ;  that  uncomfortable 
little  affair  near  the  door,  originally  devised  for  the  bewil- 
dered foreigner,  unused  to  travel.  It  was  the  first  time 
that  I  had  occupied  a  back  seat  in  all  my  travels,  and  I 


320 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


found  that,  after  all,  it  was  not  without  its  advantages. 
From  this  back  window  I  obtained  a  wide,  new  outlook 
into  the  world.  Away  behind,  my  native  mountains, 
shifting  into  new  beauty  of  shape,  as  the  track  twisted 
this  way  and  that.  There  was  a  fascination  in  watching 
this  track  unroll  itself  from  beneath  the  speeding  cars, 
and  spreading  away  in  the  distance.  Now  into  the  deep 
gorge,  then  out  over  high  embankments,  through  the 
arches  of  bridges,  over  rivers  and  streams,  and  here 
almost  touching  the  corner  of  the  old  farm-house,  built 
before  railroads  were  thought  of  at  all. 

Then  the  after-glimpses  of  the  people  we  had  just  left 
— bits  of  human  nature,  entirely  lost  by  the  occupants 
of  the  front  seats.  The  young  man  who  kissed  his  hand 
from  the  back  platform,  and  the  girl  he  left  behind  him 
waving  her  'kerchief  in  response.  The  old  gentleman 
getting  slowly  into  his  empty  wagon,  gazing  wistfully 
after  the  train,  that  was  whirling  his  only  son  off  to  the 
greedy  West  The  young  mother  with  a  child  in  her 
arms,  whose  lips  were  still  moist  with  the  father's  parting 
kiss.  The  lazy  loungers  at  the  depot,  picking  up  their 
feet  and  sauntering  off;  the  men  ploughing  in  the  fields ; 
the  women  hanging  out  clothes;  the  laborers  on  the 
track,  leaning  on  their  shovels,  until  we  passed ;  run- 
away horses,  sobering  down ;  all  this  had  escaped  me 
before,  and  no  doubt  many  another  traveller  had  treated 
the  same  commonplace  affairs  with  silent  contempt. 

"  So  like  life,"  said  my  better  self;  "so  we  come  and 
go.  A  little  stir,  a  little  brief  importance,  then  we  are 
gone;  and  the  world  goes  on  just  the  same." 

You  notice  from  the  back  seat  how  everything  seems 
to  catch  the  infection  of  hurry  from  the  train.  The  dead 
leaves  whirl  and  leap  in  the  air ;  the  very  sand  flies  on 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


321 


the  breeze  ;  the  sober  trees  in  the  wild  old  woods  wave 
and  toss  their  branches,  as  if  anxious  to  be  off — their 
arms  stretched  out  imploringly,  saying,  "  Take  us  from 
this  silence  and  solitude  out  into  the  busy,  hurrying 
world,  to  which  you  go  ! " 

Bringing  your  eyes  and  your  thoughts  back  into  the 
crowded  car,  you  pity  the  gayly-dressed  young  man  with 
the  bloated  face,  in  one  of  the  best  front  seats  on  the 
shady  side;  how  intently  he  looks  out  of  the  window, 
whenever  a  woman  enters  from  a  way-station  ;  and  the 
fat  old  gentleman  near  by,  who  secures  the  same  end,  by 
burying  his  face  in  his  newspaper.  And  the  portly  gen- 
tleman, raising  the  window  at  regular  intervals,  to  squirt 
filthy  tobacco  juice  at  the  changing  scene  without.  How 
much  they  were  losing,  I  thought !  All  this  beautiful, 
changing  scene  of  life,  and  beauty,  and  human  nature, 
going  on  around  them,  and  they,  shut  up  in  their  own 
selfish  selves,  none  the  wiser  or  better  for  it. 

Thinking  of  all  I  had  been  through  during  these  years 
of  travel,  I  wondered  if  the  people  who  take  the  back 
seat  in  life  have  not  the  best  of  it,  after  all.  The  peo- 
ple who  are  not  in  a  fret  or  a  hurry ;  ready  to  push  down 
and  trample  upon  their  fellow-travellers,  in  order  to 
secure  the  best  positions  and  places  ;  the  first  notice  the 
front  seats  generally.  The  people  who  do  not  expect 
much,  seldom  think  of  themselves,  and  are  not  eager  to 
thrust  themselves  forward.  That  there  is  a  deal  of  se- 
renity always  attendant  on  the  back  seat ;  a  leisure  from 
one's  self,  that  gives  abundant  room  for  much  outside 
living.  The  journey  is  so  short,  too,  and  so  swift,  that 
really  the  seat  one  occupies  is  of  but  little  consequence. 
And  looking  again,  one  finds  such  a  vast  material  about 
him  for  love  and  society  and  friendship,  which  giving  him 
14* 


322 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RAIL. 


no  heed,  leaves  him  at  his  journey's  end.  Material  for 
life-long  friends,  if  the  conductor  would  only  make  one 
acquainted ;  but  the  travelling  tricks  of  bad  women  and 
worse  men  have  made  us  suspicious  of  each  other,  until 
one  can  scarcely  offer  a  common  civility  to  a  lady  upon 
the  cars,  without  being  met  with  a  look  of  suspicion  or 
an  expression  of  alarm.  But  I  see  from  the  back  seat 
faces  before  me  of  culture  and  refinement ;  countenances 
expressive  of  -sympathy  and  kindness  ;  interesting  and 
entertaining  people,  who  may  be  my  "  long  lost  brothers 
and  sisters,"  but  between  whom  and  myself  no  word 
or  sign  of  recognition  will  ever  pass.  Each  has  his  own 
world  and  a  separate  path,  all  reaching,  however,  to  the 
great  depot  Beyond. 

The  people  in  the  back  seat  reach  the  journey's  end 
just  as  soon,  and  once  there,  no  one  asks  how  they  came. 
Let  us  be  good-natured,  unselfish,  and  helpful  to  our  fel- 
low-passengers, and  possess  our  souls  in  peace. 


XXIX 


THE   DEAF   COVE. 


A  detective's  story. 


MYSTERIOUS  murder  had  been  committed, 
and  a  large  reward  offered  for  the  capture  of 
the  guilty  parties.  Alarmed  at  the  extraor- 
dinary excitement  which  followed,  disreputable 
and  suspicious  characters  of  all  kinds  fled  the  city.  De- 
tectives were  sent  in  all  directions,  and  being  an  old 
member  of  the  force,  I  received  especial  instructions  from 
Pinkerton,  and  one  wet  November  evening,  was  set  down 
at  the  Great  Western  Railway  depot,  to  await  the  start- 
ing of  the  night  express.  My  luggage  consisted  of  a 
single  travelling-bag,  and  getting  a  check  for  that,  I  had 
nothing  to  do  but  stroll  about  until  the  train  should  be 
made  up. 

I  have  a  natural  dislike  for  the  waiting-room  at  a  rail- 
way station,  so  lighting  a  cigar,  I  walked  the  platform 
outside,  watching  the  faces  of  those  who  were  already 
going  aboard  the  train  to  secure  good  seats.  There  was 
the  usual  bustle  of  a  crowded  depot  on  this  occasion. 
The  wet  had  driven  all  the  apple-women  and  pea-nut 


324 


THE  DEAF   COVE. 


venders  inside,  who  were  vociferously  shouting  the  merits 
of  their  wares  to  every  customer.  Hackmen  were  blus- 
tering, as  they  always  are  on  rainy  nights,  and  porters  were 
swearing,  as  only  porters  can.  The  engineer  and  fire- 
man were  getting  into  their  oil-clothes  and  glazed  caps, 
and  the  sharp-voiced  bell  was  speaking  out  its  warning  to 
delinquents. 

I  became  interested  at  once  in  two  strangers  who  were 
evidently  to  be  my  fellow-travellers.  I  need  not  explain 
why,  after  seeing  them,  I  failed  to  look  at  any  others. 
They  were  walking  back  and  forth  like  myself,  apparently 
waiting  for  the  conductor's  "  all  aboard,"  before  giving  up 
their  liberty.  An  elderly  gentleman  and  a  young  girl — 
at  least,  the  iron-gray  hair  of  the  one,  and  the  silken 
brown  curls  of  the  other — said  as  much.  I  am  not  good 
at  a  yarn,  or  I  would  have  said  before,  that  I  was  still  a 
young  man,  and  had  been  often  selected  to  work  up 
female  cases,  on  account  of  my  good  looks  and  gentle- 
manly manners. 

Under  the  pretence  of  examining  the  time-table,  I 
stopped  short,  and  got  a  very  good  view  of  both  counte- 
nances. The  gentleman  was  sixty  or  thereabouts,  with  a 
seamed,  weather-beaten  face,  like  that  of  one  who  has 
followed  the  seas.  The  girl  I  cannot  describe  as  she 
appeared  to  me  then.  An  ordinary  observer  would  have 
seen  a  fair,  oval  face,  like  the  faces  of  those  born  under 
southern  skies.  She  smiled  at  something  her  companion 
was  saying,  revealing  teeth  as  white  as  pearls.  If  I  have 
a  weakness  for  any  particular  charm,  it  is  for  perfect 
teeth.  Without  such  a  charm,  no  woman  can  be  lovely. 
Her  hands  were  ungloved,  and  upon  the  left  forefinger 
sparkled  and  burned  like  fire  a  single  diamond  set  in  gold. 

My  theory  of  love  at  first  sight  came  to  be  a  real  thing 


THE  DEAF   COVE. 


325 


at  the  moment  I  beheld  her  face.  I  felt  the  assurance  in 
every  nerve— the  assurance  which  has  never  left  me,  from 
that  day  to  this.  The  couple  passed  on  before  me  again, 
and  I- followed  them,  taking  note  of  every  minute  detail. 
The  crimson  robes  that  encircled  the  girl  became  sacred 
to  me.  I  wondered  that  I  had  never  before  known  what 
constituted  the  acme  of  perfection  in  a  woman's  dress. 

In  turning  back  for  the  tenth  time  in  my  promenade,  I 
noticed  one  person  whose  appearance  at  once  arrested 
my  official  gaze.  A  tall,  slightly  stooping  man,  wrapped 
in  a  heavy  cloak  of  a  military  pattern.  His  gait  was  that 
of  a  lithe,  active  individual  of  thirty ;  but  his  gray  hair, 
and  the  cane  on  which  he  leaned,  or  pretended  to  lean, 
gave  him  an  elderly  appearance.  I  was  unable  to  get  a 
fair  view  of  his  face,  but  it  was  plain  that  the  gleam  of 
the  cold  gray  eye — furtive,  yet  alert,  like  that  of  a  grey- 
hound— was  not  the  eye  of  an  infirm  old  man.  In  short, 
the  appearance  of  age  was  a  disguise  assumed  for  some 
purpose,  a  discovery  that  recalled  the  business  in  hand. 
While  setting  my  detective  wits  to  work,  my  eye  singled 
out  another  individual,  who  excited  my  curiosity  even 
more  than  the  first.  This  person  was  leaning  against  a 
peanut  stand,  crunching  the  filberts  the  boy  was  cracking 
for  him,  and  like  myself,  perhaps,  taking  note  of  those 
around  him.  He  was  short,  thick-set,  and  muscular. 
He  wore  a  suit  of  plain  black,  a  white  neck-cloth,  and 
carried  a  book  under  his  arm.  I  got  behind  him  and 
read  its  title  :  "  Barnes'  Notes  on  the  Gospel  of  St.  Paul." 

Was  he  a  clergyman  ?  I  asked  my  professional  self — 
then  took  a  second  look.  His  face  was  red,  as  though 
the  parish  in  his  charge  had  stocked  the  cellar  of  the  par- 
sonage with  generous  wine.  His  features  were  coarse 
and  repulsive,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  for  the  lower  part  of 


326  THE  DEAF  COVE. 

his  physiognomy  was  entirely  concealed  in  a  heavy  growth 
of  reddish-gray  beard.  I  could  form  no  opinion  of  his 
eyes,  for  they  were  sheltered  behind  green  glasses  with 
very  respectable  gold  frames. 

It  occurred  to  me  in  a  moment  that  there  was  some 
sort  of  a  collusion  between  these  two  men,  though  why  I 
should  indulge  this  fancy  I  could  not  determine.  Even 
with  the  horrible  murder  still  fresh  in  my  memory,  and  a 
city  at  my  back  searching  all  its  avenues  for  the  murderers, 
I  did  not  for  a  moment  imagine  that  either  of  these  mild- 
mannered  and  unsuspicious  persons  were  in  any  way 
connected  with  that  bloody  affair.  Neither  can  I  explain 
why,  now.  It  was  one  of  those  psychological  phenomena 
which  occasionally  occur  to  the  most  matter-of-fact  of 
men,  and  wholly  inexplicable  through  the  medium  of 
language. 

I  felt  a  little  nettled  with  myself  for  observing  either 
of  these  men,  when  I  might  look  at  the  young  girl  in- 
stead. Presently  the  last  bell  sounded,  and  my  old  gen- 
tleman assisted  the  young  girl  to  a  carriage.  I  sprang 
after  them,  determined  if  possible  to  keep  near  her  ;  but 
to  my  chagrin  I  found  that  every  seat  in  that  car  was  oc- 
cupied. I  went  to  the  next  one  behind,  with  no  better 
luck. 

The  next  carriage  I  entered  was  a  compartment  car, 
at  the  rear  of  the  train,  I  judged.  The  first  compartment 
was  empty ;  and  congratulating  myself  on  that  circum- 
stance, I  took  a  comfortable  position,  with  my  feet  on 
the  next  seat,  and  resigned  myself  to  dreams  of  her,  and, 
perhaps,  by  and  by,  a  little  sleep.  For  the  train  was  ex- 
press to  Beaunier — I  give  only  fictitious  names — and  I 
should  not  be  troubled  for  my  ticket  or  check  until  just 
before  reaching  there. 


THE  DEAF   COVE. 


327 


Just  as  the  train  had  got  under  way,  and  I  was  indulg- 
ing in  a  rapturous  waking  dream  of  those  hazel  eyes  I 
had  seen  beneath  that  scarlet  feather,  the  door  of  my  re- 
treat was  opened,  somewhat  cautiously,  it  appeared  to 
me,  and  the  man  I  had  seen  at  the  depot,  in  the  military 
cloak,  looked  in. 

I  felt  insufferably  annoyed,  for  I  concluded  he  was 
hunting  for  a  seat,  and  I  did  not  care  to  have  my  pleasant 
thoughts  disturbed  by  his  conversation.  A  sudden  idea 
came  into  my  head.  I  would  feign  deafness,  and  thus 
be  spared  the  infliction  of  being  obliged  to  keep  up  a 
civil  show  of  sociability.  He  addressed  me  in  a  manner 
which  was  polite  and  gentlemanly. 

"  Do  you  object  to  company,  sir  ?  " 

"  Eh ! "  said  I,  in  a  loud  voice,  and  putting  my  hand 
to  my  ear  in  the  way  most  deaf  persons  have. 

I  found  the  man  looked  relieved,  but  it  might  have 
been  only  a  fancy. 

He  repeated  the  question  in  a  tone  so  loud,  that  I 
wondered  if  the  people  in  the  next  car  would  not  hear 
it  and  take  alarm. 

I  shook  my  head  in  a  dissatisfied  way,  took  a  slip  of 
paper  and  pencil  from  my  pocket,  and  gave  them  to  him. 

"  Write,"  said  I. 

He  wrote  the  question  in  a  bold,  free  hand. 

"  Do  you  object  to  having  company,  sir  ?" 

"Certainly  not,"  I  replied,  after  reading  it,  though  I 
told  as  arrant  a  falsehood  as  I  was  capable  of  in  two  words. 

He  stepped  to  the  door,  and  spoke  to  some  one  out- 
side.    I  heard  the  words  distinctly. 

"  Come  in,  Dick.     Thar's  only  one  fellow  here,  and 

he's  as  deaf  as  the  .     He  wouldn't  hear  Gabriel's 

trumpet  if  it  should  sound  this  moment." 


328 


THE  DEAF   COVE. 


Dick  stepped  inside,  and,  as  I  had  fully  expected,  he 
proved  to  be  the  short,  thick-set  clerical  gentleman  I 
had  seen  at  the  peanut  stand.  He  took  a  survey  of  me 
through  his  spectacles. 

"Humph!"  said  he,  "rather  an  intelligent-looking 
chap.     Are  you  sure  he's  deaf  ?" 

"  Try  him,  and  see,"  responded  the  other. 

"  I  hope  we  do  not  incommode  you,  sir  ?  "  said  he,  in  a 
tone  which  seemed  to  me  a  sort  of  cross  between  a 
steam-whistle  and  a  clap  of  August  thunder. 

I  replied  by  giving  him  my  pencil  and  paper. 

He  looked  satisfied,  and  wrote  rapidly — 

"  Let  us  becorne  acquainted.  My  companion  is  T)r. 
Severance,  of  Baltimore,  and  I  am  the  Rev.  John  Smith, 
of  the  same  place." 

I  read  the  lines,  and  took  from  my  pocket  a  printed 
card,  of  which  I  always  carried  a  varied  assortment.  He 
took  it  and  read  it  aloud  with  an  amused  twinkle  creep- 
ing about  the  wrinkles  at  the  corners  of  his  ambushed  eyes  : 

JOHN   D.    SMITH, 

DEALER    IN    DRY   GOODS    AND    EMBROIDERIES, 

Galesburg,  Ills. 

Dr.  Smith  laughed,  as  his  friend  remarked,  "  Your 
namesake,  my  Rev.  John  ! " 

"Another  John  Smith  !  by  Jupiter  ! "  cried  the  reverend 
gentleman.  "  If  I  was  the  genuine  and  original  John 
Smith,  I'd  have  my  name  patented,  and  every  pretender 
should  be  prosecuted  according  to  law ! "  and  then  he 
wrote  a  line  or  two  for  my  perusal,  to  the  effect  that  he 
was  happy  to  meet  me,  and  that  he  deeply  regretted  my 
infirmity,  because  it  would  deprive  him  of  the  great 
pleasure  of  my  conversation. 


THE  DEAF  COVE.  329 

After  this  complimentary  courtesy  they  left  me  to 
myself,  and  I  subsided  into  my  corner  of  the  seat,  drew 
my  hat  over  my  eyes,  and  simulated  sleep. 

"  It's  deuced  lucky,"  said  the  man  called  Dick,  "  that 
this  car  happens  to  be  so  nearly  empty;  Providence 
favors  us.  That  is  clerical  language,  isn't  it?"  with  a 
loud  ha,  ha  !  at  his  irreverent  wit. 

"  Decidedly  lucky,"  responded  the  other.  "  That  chap 
is  of  no.  more  consequence  than  a  dead  log.  But  are 
you  quite  sure  that  Starkey  will  not  fail  us  ?  " 

"  Sure  ?  Yes,  sir  !  as  sure  as  that  we  are  here.  He 
knows  Dick  Turner  too  well,  to  trifle  in  a  matter  of  this 
kind.  He  stands  in  fear  of  his  fate,"  and  the  villain  sig- 
nificantly touched  the  butt  end  of  a  pistol  which  pro- 
truded from  an  inner  breast-pocket. 

"It  is  a  ticklish  undertaking,"  said  the  other;  "one, 
the  plan  of  which  does  you  infinite  credit  as  a  prince  in 
your  profession.  You  ought  to  be  prime  minister  to  his 
Satanic  Majesty  in  the  next  world." 

" Well,  when  I  am,"  replied  Dick,  "I'll  be  sure  to 
speak  a  word  to  his  highness  in  favor  of  my  friend  Jack 
Mortlan,  alias  Dr.  Severance." 

"Don't  waste  words  in  compliments,  Dick.  Let  me 
be  sure  that  I  fully  understand  the  plan."  ■ 

"  Certainly,  I  will  detail  it  to  you  if  you  like,  though  I 
thought  you  were  thoroughly  posted.  The  facts  in  the 
case  are  these.  Old  Capt.  Van  Luce  has  been  master 
of  a  privateer — or,  what  amounts  to  the  same  thing — 
has  served  his  country  gloriously  in  this  great  and  wicked 
rebellion." 

"Nonsense!  don't  go  into  the  spread-eagle  style. 
Speak  English ! "  responded  Jack,  testily. 

"Anything  to  oblige.     The  old  gentleman  was  rich 


33Q 


THE  DEAF  COVE. 


before  the  war,  he  is  richer  now,  and  what  is  more  to  the 

point,  he  is  going  to  his  home  in  B ,  and  has  his 

prize-money,  a  cool  hundred  thousand,  in  his  possession. 
Also,  he  has  his  daughter,  and  she  having  been  on  a  visit 
to  New  York,  has  her  diamonds,  which  are  worth  fifty 
thousand  more,  among  her  luggage.  The  entire  plunder 
is  contained  in  the  black-leather  valise  that  is  stowed 
away  at  this  moment  under  the  seat  the  father  and 
daughter  occupy,  whar  he  can  keep  his  foot  on  it,  and 
be  ready  to  seize  upon  it  at  a  moment's  notice.  By 
Jove,  Jack !  the  girl  is  a  beauty !  I  don't  wonder  you 
feel  sore  over  the  way  things  have  turned  out!  Didn't 
she  look  handsome  in  that  black-velvet  hat,  with  the 
scarlet  feather  in  it,  and  that  crimson  shawl  over  her 
shoulders  ?  Gad !  Florence  Van  Luce  is  a  splendid- 
looking  woman,  and  she  will  be  quite  handsome  enough 
without  diamonds." 

You  may  well  believe  that  I  could  hardly  keep  from 
starting  to  my  feet,  as  I  listened  to  this  conversation ; 
but,  by  an  effort,  I  controlled  myself  to  hear  what  more 
might  be  said. 

"  It  was  a  cruel  hit  for  you,  Jack,  when  she  failed  to 
see  your  manifold  attractions,  and  mittened  you  as  coolly 
as  she  would  have  exterminated  a  troublesome  mos- 
quito." 

"Hush!"  said  the  other,  fiercely,  "you  shall  not  jest 
upon  that  subject !  Her  rejection  made  a  demon  of  me  ! 
Before  that  I  was  only  a  fast  young  man,  with  as  many 
virtues,  and  no  more  vices  than  the  average ;  but  ever 
since  I  have  been  a  fiend !  She  might  have  been  my 
salvation — you  needn't  sneer,  Dick  Turner — but  instead 
she  has  been  my  ruin.  And  yet  I'll  do  her  the  justice  to 
say,  that  she  tried  to  avoid  me  always;  and  when  she 


THE  DEAF  COVE. 


331 


rejected  my  love  she  was  kind.  Kind  !  my  God !  how  I 
hated  her,  because  I  thought  pity  made  her  kind !  I  tell 
you,  Dick,  no  woman  who  thoroughly  knows  Jack  Mort- 
lan  will  ever  dare  his  hatred  with  impunity  !  I  loved  her 
once,  now  I  hate  her  ! " 

"  Softly,  softly,  Jack.  What  if  yonder  blockhead  should 
wake  up  ?  He'd  see  from  the  expression  of  your  face 
that  something  was  agog.  Let  the  girl  go  !  such  as  her 
are  not  for  you  and  me.  And  yet  we  were  both  gentlemen 
once !  But  never  mind !  We  will  be  again,  when  the 
old  man's  money  is  ours  ! " 

"  You  have  selected  Hanly  as  the  place,  I  understand  ?  " 
"  Yes ;  there  could  not  be  a  better  place  for  such  an 
accident  (?)  if  it  had  been  made  to  order.  This  train  is 
express  to  Beaunier — the  only  stoppage  it  makes  is  at 
Tylerville,  twenty-five  miles  beyond  Hanly,  for  wood  and 
water.  Just  beyond  Hanly  village  there  is  a  long  cut, 
and  the  train  runs  in  on  a  curve.  It  is  two  miles  from 
the  covered  river  bridge.  The  cut  is  always  dark ;  it  will 
be  darker  still  to-night,  and  the  lamps  won't  light  the 
track  a  rod  ahead,  the  fog  is  so  thick.  In  the  middle 
of  this  cut,  ten  lengths  of  the  rail  will  be  taken  up  when 
the  whistle  for  Hanly  village  is  heard.  Starkey  is  there 
now,  I'll  warrant  ye,  ready  to  operate  the  moment  he 
hears  the  whistle.  Of  course,  there  will  be  an  accident, 
and  some  people  will  be  killed,  and  some  will  be  hurt ; 
but  that's  not  our  look-out.  If  people  want  to  be  out  of 
danger,  let  'em  keep  out  of  railway  trains — particularly 
those  that  are  express !  But  the  cream  of  the  joke,  and 
decidedly  the  wittiest  thing  in  the  whole  plan  is  this  :  you 
and  I  shall  run  no  risk  from  the  smash ;  for,  hark  ye ! 
we  are  in  the  very  hindmost  car  ;  and  just  as  we  pass 
Hanly  village  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of  unshackling  this 


332  THE  DEAF   COVE. 

car  from  the  train ;  and  as  it  has  a  brake  of  its  own,  we 
shall  manage  to  run  quite  up  to  the  scene  of  the  catas- 
trophe, and  be  there  ready  to  lend  our  assistance,  which 
will  be  rendered  by  seizing  on  old  Van  Luce's  black 
valise,  and  any  other  valuables  which  may  be  lying  around 
loose.  I  have  marked  just  the  position  of  the  old  fellow 
in  the  car — he's  a  careful  traveller — just  exactly  in  the 
middle,  fourth  car  from  this  ;  and  if  he's  not  killed,  it  will 
be  very  easy  to  snatch  the  valise  and  light  out.  Starkey 
is  to  have  a  carriage  and  horses  waiting  behind  the  hill 

for  us ;  and  in  two  hours  we  shall  be  on  board  the  L 

train,  speeding  back  to  New  York.  How  d'ye  like  the 
scheme,  my  friend  ?  " 

"  You  are  a  trump,"  responded  Jack,  "  only  I  wish  I 
was  sure  that  Florence  would  not  be  hurt.  Much  as  I 
hate  her,  I  am  not  sunk  so  low  as  to  feel  just  right  about 
putting  a  woman  in  danger." 

"Tush  !  don't  be  spooney.  Take  a  drink  of  this,  and 
it  will  set  you  all  right." 

My  blood  was  fairly  on  fire.  A  hundred  vague  plans 
flitted  through  my  brain,  among  the  most  tempting  of 
which  was  the  desire  to  take  my  revolver  from  my  pocket, 
and  shoot  the  villains  dead  where  they  sat.  But  they 
were  armed  and  desperate ;  and  besides,  the  men  of  the 
train  would  take  me  for  a  madman,  if  I  communicated 
even  the  substance  of  the  story  I  had  heard.  So,  as 
there  was  yet  some  seventy  miles  between  us  and  Hanly, 
I  sat  still  and  awaited  further  developments. 

"What  if  our  interesting  companion  should  take  ex- 
ception to  our  uncoupling  the  car?"  ' 

"  Pshaw  !  He  sleeps  like  a  top.  If  he  wasn't,  there's 
nothing  strange  about  a  couple  of  passengers  going  out  to 
smoke." 


THE  DEAF   COVE. 


333 


Meanwhile,  the  train  rushed  on  through  the  darkness ; 
and  even  now  I  sometimes  awake  with  a  start  on  stormy- 
nights — the  grinding  roar  of  the  wheels  on  the  rails  seem- 
ing yet  to  ring  in  my  ears,  just  as  I  heard  it  that  night, 
when  every  revolution  brought  us  nearer  and  nearer  to 
doom. 

"Come,  come,  Jack,"  said  Turner,  "let's  go  out  into 
the  air  and  have  a  smoke.  I'll  just  turn  the  key  on  this 
chap,  to  be  sure  in  case  he  has  been  shamming." 

The  two  men  went  out,  and  I  was  a  prisoner ! 

The  brain  works  quickly  in  such  moments,  if  it  works 
at  all,  and  very  soon  I  had  formed  a  plan  by  which  I 
hoped  to  save  the  train.  Much  upon  the  road  upon  pe- 
culiar duty,  I  had  become  familiar  with  the  interpretation 
of  the  locomotive's  whistles;  and  just  at  this  moment  the 
engine  shrieked  out  on  the  thick  night  air.  Two  sharp, 
quick  cries,  and  then  a  shrill,  prolonged  scream.  We 
had  made  unusually  good  time,  and  now  Bellevue  was 
distant  only  twenty-two  miles  !  Not  to  be  mistaken,  I 
took  out  my  note-book.  Yes,  I  was  right.  Two  quick 
whistles  and  a  prolonged  one  meant  a  station ;  and  my 
time-table  gave  the  distance  and  the  name.  How  fortu- 
nate, too,  that  I  knew  the  road  so  well ! 

I  had  not  then  a  moment  to  lose.  Putting  my  hand 
on  my  revolver,  lest  my  fiendish  fellow-travellers  should 
suddenly  return,  I  stole  to  the  rear  door  of  the  car,  only 
to  find  it  locked !  Probably  they  had  prepared  this  car 
before  leaving  the  depot.  But  I  was  not  to  be  thus 
thwarted.  The  windows  were  wide,  and  with  one  blow 
of  my  heavy  boot,  I  crashed  both  glass  and  sash,  and 
climbed  through.  There  was  no  foothold  outside,  save 
the  iron  brace  which  ran  around  the  car.  Standing  upon 
this,  and   clinging   to   the  window-frame,  I  looked   out 


334 


THE  DEAF  COVE. 


through  the  gloom.  It  was  a  fearful  night ;  a  thick  mist 
was  falling,  and  the  wind  felt  like  the  breath  of  a  tomb. 

A  few  rods  from  Bellevue,  the  line  crossed  a  deep 
though  narrow  river,  upon  a  "  pile  bridge."  The  signal 
of  "  all  right"  at  this  bridge  was  three  lights,  two  red  and 
one  green.  Leaning  out  as  far  as  I  dared,  I  soon  caught 
the  gleam  of  the  lights,  and  almost  simultaneously,  we  were 
thundering  over  the  bridge.  Uttering  a  brief  but  heart- 
felt prayer  to  God,  I  let  go  my  hold  and  leaped  for- 
ward ! 

An  intolerable  sense  of  suffocation,  succeeded  by  a 
coldness  like  ice ;  and  then  I  seemed  to  sink  down  to 
unfathomable  depths.  Presently  I  rose  to  the  surface  of 
the  water,  and  struck  out  for  the  shore.  I  was  very 
near  it,  and  almost  instantly  my  feet  touched  the  bottom. 
Breathless  and  dripping  as  I  was,  I  ran  with  all  speed  to 
the  station-house,  rushed  into  the  telegraph  office  there, 
and  found  the  operator  dozing  in  his  chair.  He  stared 
at  me  in  blank  dismay.  Telegraph  instantly,  I  exclaimed, 
to  stop  the  train  at  Hanly  village.  Tell  them  to  arrest 
two  men  who  are  travelling  in  the  rear  car.  One  is  tall, 
with  a  slight  stoop,  gray  hair,  and  lightish  eyes.  The 
other  short,  thick-set,  red  hair  and  whiskers.  I  repeated 
this  rapidly,  at  the  same  time  writing  it  down. 

Still  the  man  stared  at  me. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  he  said.  "  This  line  is  only 
used  by  the  train  despatchers  and  officers  of  the  road,  from 
whom  all  orders  must  be  received.  I  have  no  authority 
to  stop  trains." 

"  There  is  danger  ahead,"  I  almost  screamed.  "  Be- 
yond Hanly  village  the  track  is  up.  Send  the  message 
instantly." 

"  I  cannot,  sir ;  it  is  against  orders,  but  I  will  communi- 


THE  DEAF   COVE. 


335 


cate  with  headquarters.  In  the  meantime,  let  me  ask, 
-are  you  mad  or  drunk  ?  " 

"  But  the  message  ?  "  I  yelled. 

"The  message  has  been  sent  from  headquarters,  and 
the  despatcher  orders  the  express  stopped  at  Hanly  vil-, 
lage.  Also  the  arrest  of  the  parties  with  yourself.  If  you 
are  a  lunatic,  as  I  suppose,  they  will  take  you  all  to- 
gether." 

I  steadied  my  voice. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  for  behaving  in  such  an  un- 
heard of,  and  perhaps  rude  manner.  But  I  dared  not 
stop  to  explain  until  you  had  sent  the  message.  God 
grant  it  may  be  in  time  !  "  And  as  briefly  as  might  be, 
I  made  the  amazed  operator  acquainted  with  what  the 
reader  already  knows. 

"We  will  go  on  to  Hanly  village  at  once,"  he  said. 
"  I  am  anxious  for  the  dmotiment ;  and  besides,  it  will  be 
necessary  that  you  should  be  there  to  accuse  these  cow- 
ardly rascals." 

He  put  a  bottle  of  wine  and  some  glasses  on  the  table, 
and  told  me  to  make  myself  at  home ;  and  though  I  am 
not  much  of  a  "wine-bibber,"  I  think  the  two  glasses  I 
took  that  night  were  a  benefit  to  me ;  for  I  was  so  nearly 
distracted  with  fear  in  regard  to  the  train  that  contained 
Florence  Van  Luce,  that  I  needed  something  to  steady 
my  overstrung  nerves. 

The  operator,  whose  name  was  Morgan,  now  left  me, 
while  he  went  out  to  arouse  the  road-master  to  get  his 
permission  to  have  a  locomotive  "fixed  up"  to  take  us 
to  Hanly.  He  returned  in  fifteen  minutes  to  say  that  all 
was  in  readiness.  The  road-master  accompanied  us,  and 
I  venture  to  say,  none  of  us  ever  travelled  at  the  rate  of 
speed  we  made  that  night.     Morgan  ventured  to  remon- 


336  THE  DEAF  COVE. 

strate  with  the  engineer,  but  he  looked  admiringly  at  the 
high  pressure  of  steam  registered  by  the  guage,  and  re- 
plied with  something  like  triumph — 

"  She  can  stan'  it,  sir  !  Gad !  there  aint  a  machine 
on  the  road  that  can  run  with  old  Forty-two." 

At  last  we  saw  the  signal  light  of  Hanly  station,  and 
the  "  Forty-two  "  uttered  a  shrill  cry  to  notify  the  station 
people  of  our  approach.  In  a  moment  three  sharp  whis- 
tles in  quick  succession  were  returned. 

"  That's  the  Twenty-four"  said  our  engineer.  "  Should 
know  that  whistle  among  a  thousand — and  the  Twenty- 
four's  the  machine  that  allers  draws  the  night  express. 
They're  pulled  up  at  Hanly  village,  you  may  bet  your 
life  on  that." 

I  remember  that  I  put  my  two  hands  together,  and 
said  to  myself,  "  Thank  God  !  thank  God  ! " 

We  drew  up  behind  the  express  train,  and  alighting, 
made  our  way  to  the  depot.  The  utmost  confusion  pre- 
vailed. Half  the  village,  aroused*by  so  unusual  a  circum- 
stance as  the  stoppage  of  the  night  express,  had  turned 
out,  and  were  gathered  in  little  knots  around  the  station, 
discussing  the  singularity  of  the  whole  affair. 

My  whilom  fellow-travellers  were  held  in  custody  by 
the  railway  police.  Dick  was  inclined  to  bluster,  and 
protest  his  innocence  of  every  real  and  imaginary  sin  that 
ever  was  dreamed  of;  Jack  was  stolid  and  sullen,  and 
maintained  a  rigid  silence. 

As  we  entered  the  room,  Dick  was  saying, 

"  What  in  the  deuce  are  we  stopped  here  for  ?  I'll 
have  satisfaction  out  of  somebody  for  this !  Detained 
like  two  criminals !  The  Company's  pockets  shall  smart 
for  it  !  By  whose  authority  was  the  train  stopped  ?  Just 
tell  me  that,  will  ye  ?  " 


THE  DEAF  COVE. 


337 


"We  received  a  telegram,"  said  the  station-agent. 
"  Keep  cool,  sir ;  if  you  are  innocent  of  the  charge  which 
some  party  will  bring  against  you,  you  will  be  set  at 
liberty." 

"  Who  sent  the  telegram  ?  "  demanded  Dick,  fiercely. 

"  I  had  that  honor,  sir,"  said  I,  pausing  in  front  of  him. 

"  By The  deaf  cove  that  pretended  to  be  asleep 

in  the  compartment-car  !  By  Jupiter !  he  was  shamming 
I  told  you  so,  Jack  ! " 

"  Is  there  a  magistrate  present  ?  "  I  inquired,  looking 
around  on  the  sea  of  inquisitive,  faces. 

And  an  elderly  gentleman,  stepping  out  from  the  crowd, 
announced  himself  qualified. 

"  I  wish  to  be  put  upon  oath,"  said  I.  "  I  deem  it  no 
more  than  justice  to  myself  that  all  the  travellers  by  the 
express  should  listen  to  my  statement,  that  I  may  be  ex- 
onerated from  blame  in  having  been  the  means  of  bring- 
ing their  journey  to  so  abrupt  a  termination  for  the  pres- 
ent." 

And  under  oath,  simply  and  briefly  as  might  be,  I  gave 
a  narration  of  facts  as  the  reader  already  knows  them, 
though  I  confess  to  skipping  that  portion  touching  the 
love  of  Jack  Mortlan  for  Florence  Van  Luce.  I  thought 
the  story  just  as  complete  without  that. 

Just  as  I  had  finished  my  statement,  one  of  the  mes- 
sengers sent  forward  to  look  for  the  danger  of  which  my 
telegram  had  given  intimation,  returned.  He  was  breath- 
less and  agitated,  and  announced  the  track  torn  up  for 
some  lengths  in  the  middle  of  Hanly  "cut,"  and  also  the 
discovery  of  a  pair  of  horses  and  a  carriage,  secreted  in  a 
clump  of  bushes  a  few  yards  from  the  line. 

I  had  not  the  remotest  idea  of  being  made  a  hero,  but 
the  people  would  insist  on  shaking  hands  with  me,  and 
15 


338  THE  DEAF  COVE. 

thanking  me  for  the  service  I  had  rendered ;  and  among 
the  warmest  thanks  of  all  were  those  of  Capt.  Van  Luce. 

And  when  he  had  said  all  he  could  think  of,  he  called 
his  daughter  to  finish  for  him. 

"  Florence,  my  dear,  come  hither,  and — and — hang  it ! 
do  the  thing  up  as  it  ought  to  be  done.  Shiver  my  tim- 
bers if  I  know  what  to  say  to  the  man  who  has  saved  my 
life,  and  that  of  my  darling  !  This  is  my  daughter,  Flor- 
ence, Mr. — Mr.  Well,  I  declare,  I  don't  happen  to 

know  your  name." 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  My  name  is  simply  Martin, 
George  Martin,  and  I  reside  in  B " 

Florence  laid  her  dear  little  hand  in  mine  and  I  took 
it  gladly  enough,  resisting  with  an  effort  the  impulse  of 
my  heart  to  take  her  to  my  bosom. 

My  wife,  whose  name  is  Florence,  looks  over  my  shoul- 
der and  says  my  story  is  done.  Every  one  who  has  had 
any  romance  in  his  life  will  guess  the  conclusion. 

Dick  and  Jack  were  tried  and  condemned  to  imprison- 
ment for  life.  Jack  subsequently  committed  suicide  in 
his  cell.  Pinkerton,  our  chief,  said  it  was  the  best  case 
I  ever  worked  up,  as  it  was  the  last 


XXX. 


THE  HOTEL  CLERK  OF  THE  PERIOD. 


A  CONFIDENTIAL  NOTE  TO  MARMADUKE  MACOMBER,  OP  THE  ST.   JAMES. 


Y  Dear  Duke  :  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you 
again ;  indeed  the  more  so,  since  I  have  seen 
nothing  to  compare  with  you  in  all  my  travels. 
Nothing  to  equal  the  charms  and  grace  of  your 
person,  the  perfection  of  those  ambrosial  curls,  and  the 
extent  and  magnificence  of  your  jewelry.  Nothing  to 
approach  that  kingly  air  with  which  you  deal  out  your 
princely  favors  to  the  plebeians  who  beg  and  cringe  at  the 
foot  of  your  throne.  True,  I  have  met  impostors  and 
pretenders,  who,  coming  into  the  position  by  inheritance, 
became  selfish,  giddy,  and  tyrannical  by  a  too  sudden  as- 
sumption of  its  vast  power  and  influence.  Imitations 
abound,  too,  in  monarchical  countries,  where  a  traveller 
asking  for  accommodations  is  treated  as  an  equal  rather 
than  a  mendicant ;  where  a  vagabond,  entering  with 
portmanteau  in  hand,  is  permitted  to  approach  the  Pres- 
ence without  a  formal  introduction. 

I  recall  a  glaring  instance  of  this  apostasy  in  France. 


340      THE  HOTEL   CLERK  OF   THE  PERIOD. 

The  keeper  of  a  tav — my  dear  Duke,  I  beg  your  pardon 
— the  proprietor  of  the  principal  hotel  in   the  Rue  de 

,  really  announced  to  the  public,  that  his  guests 

would  be  welcomed  with  kindness  and  attention  !  Think 
of  that,  my  friend,  and  condole  with  human  depravity ! 
Fresh  from  America,  I  called  to  inspect  the  novelty.  I 
found  there  a  ser — your  pardon  again — a  gentleman  of 
plebeian  birth  behind  the  count — that  is  to  say,  in-  the 
office — who  had  just  opened  a  stock  of  patience  and 
courtesy.  He  was  in  plain  attire,  and  actually  without  a 
jewel  or  other  insignia  of  rank.  I  was  even  permitted  to 
converse  with  him,  so  far  had  he  forgotten  the  dignity  of 
his  position. 

You,  who  know  so  well  what  belongs  to  the  dignity  of 
a  first-class  serv — as  I  should  say — clerk,  would  have 
blushed  with  mortification  at  this  prostitution  of  a  noble 
profession.  He  descended  to  the  level  of  the  citizen  at 
once.  As  the  crowds  rushed  in  to  inspect  his  stock  of 
patience  and  courtesy,  he  spoke  in  humble  tones,  and 
gave  a  ready  and  pleasant  answer  to  every  comer.  What 
surprised  me  more  than  all,  was  to  see  him  descend  from 
what  we  in  America  recognize  as  a  throne,  and  actually 
mix  with  those  low  people,  and  attend  in  person  to  their 
wants  !  One  instance,  my  dear  Duke,  I  shall  never  for- 
get. This  was  a  not  to  say  tidy  gentleman,  who  called  for 
a  front  chamber  on  the  second  floor,  and  complaining  of 
fatigue,  requested  to  be  shown  there  at  once.  The 
servant  not  answering  the  bell  promptly,  this  clerk  really 
left  his  post,  and  accompanied  the  party  to  his  very 
door !  For  impudence  on  the  one  hand,  and  conde- 
scension on  the  other,  I  have  never  witnessed  the  like  be- 
fore or  since. 

But,  my  dear  Duke,  this  is  not  all.     I  learned  that  in 


THE  HOTEL    CLERK  OF   THE  PERIOD. 


341 


that  house,  porters,  waiters,  and  chambermaids  were 
treated  as  human  beings — men  and  women — instead  of 
the  outcasts  we  know  them  to  be  everywhere ;  that  this 
clerk  really  regarded  himself  as  a  servant  with  the  rest, 
an  employe  on  the  same  train,  as  we  travellers  would  say. 
He  answered  their  questions  with  the  same  courtesy 
and  attention  that  was  bestowed  upon  the  wealthy  pat- 
rons of  the  house,  and  sent  them  upon  errands  with  the 
air  of  one  who  begged  a  favor,  rather  than  exacted  the 
performance  of  a  duty.  I  noticed,  too,  that  he  received 
his  "  guests,"  as  he  styled  them,  with  a  desire  to  extend 
them  every  accommodation,  instead  of  giving  them  to 
understand  that  he  was  the  master  and  they  the  sup- 
pliants. The  modest  tradesman  who  sought  a  night's 
lodging,  was  as  kindly  received  as  the  parties  of  the 
respectable  classes  who  swept  in  from  carriages.  Dis- 
gusted with  all  this,  I  took  occasion  to  assure  him,  that 
in  America  his  house  would  not  last  a  day.  He  replied, 
that  hospitality  should  be  impartial.  That  every  man  who 
stopped  with  him  once,  should  be  treated  with  such 
courtesy  that  he  would  remember  it  with  gratitude,  and 
come  again. 

When  I  came  over,  my  dear  Duke,  I  was  not  surprised 
to  hear  that  this  hotel  was  the  first  that  the  Communists 
destroyed. 

Is  it  any  wonder,  my  dear  Macomber,  that  I  welcomed 
the  change  upon  my  arrival  last  night?  To  see  you 
standing  there,  dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion  ;  blazing 
with  brilliant  jewelry,  and  moistened,  as  it  were,  with  the 
rarest  exotics ;  as  calm  and  serene  before  that  crowd  of 
noisy  travellers,  as  a  real  Duke  in  his  reception-chamber, 
was  to  forget  the  French  hireling  and  all  his  disgusting 
surroundings.     You  were  there  to  command  as  the  Pa- 


342 


THE  HOTEL   CLERK  OF  THE  PERIOD. 


tron,  not  the  servant  of  mankind.  To  give  every  one  to 
understand,  that  they  are  inferior  beings,  permitted  to  re- 
ceive your  patronage  and  never  to  question  either  its 
quality,  quantity,  or  mode  of  delivery. 

As  this  crowd  of  hungry,  soiled,  and  weary  passengers 
came  in  from  the  late  trains,  how  you  enjoyed  the  oppor- 
tunity !  One  old  gentleman,  evidently  a  thief  in  disguise, 
peered  at  you  through  gold  spectacles.  I  could  see  that 
a  consciousness  of  guilt  caused  him  to  approach  you 
with  an  abject  and  cowardly  air.  The  low  crowd  moved 
aside  to  give  him  entrance  to  your  gracious  presence. 

"  I  am  too  old  and  feeble  to  go  far,  sir  j  will  you  give 
me  a  room  on  a  near  floor  ?  " 

To  see  you  gaze  over  their  heads  as  if  you  failed  to 
hear,  with  that  princely  air  which  is  indeed  charming, 
and  remark — 

"  Sir — Move  on  /  " 

I  tell  you,  my  dear  Duke,  that  was  a  master-stroke  of 
genius  !  And  then,  as  question  after  question  came  from 
the  dastardly  offenders,  to  have  you  answer  all  with  that 
ill- suppressed  contempt,  which  is  the  highest  charm  of  your 
profession !  I  tell  you,  sir  (as  I  have  a  right  to  say  to 
any  friend  who  attains  to  greatness  in  his  calling),  such 
rare  skill  comes  only  of  deep  study  and  careful  practice. 

Courtesy,  indeed  !  A  lot  of  miserable  travellers  ask- 
ing for  a  nighf  s  lodging  ?  Do  the  hounds  imagine  that 
the  pittance  they  pay  entitles  them  to  more?  Shall  a 
serv — (that  is  to  say,  a  gentleman  of  your  parts,  Mr. 
Macomber)  be  forever  bowing  and  scraping,  and  making 
fine  speeches  to  people  whom  he  never  expects  to  meet 
again  ? 

Your  power,  my  friend,  is  of  a  piece  with  that  of  the 
railway  conductor  who  has  just   brought  us   through. 


THE  HOTEL    CLERK  OF  THE  PERIOD. 


343 


The  comfort  of  scores  of  your  fellow-passengers  on  the 
World's  train  is  in  your  hands  every  day.  You  may 
make  yourself  a  valuable  servant — for  we  are  servants  all 
— and  your  house  popular  and  profitable,  if  you  will. 
You  are  placed  there  to  serve  your  guest  with  that  for 
which  he  is  ready  to  pay,  and  it  becomes  you  to  see  to  it 
that  it  comes  to  him  from  polite  and  willing  hands. 
Every  traveller  recognizes  you  at  once.  You  may  send 
him  away  as  a  friend  or  an  enemy,  and  every  man  has 
his  influence.  Let  it  be  your  aim  then,  my  friend,  to 
send  down  into  his  heart  some  pleasant  memory  of  his 
stay.    Some  kindly  action — a  word — or  even  a  smile  ! 


THE    END. 


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athaliah. — J.  H.  Greene,  Jr i  75 

four  oaks. — Kamba  Thorpe  1  75 

PROMETHEUS  IN  ATLANTIS 2  OO 

TITAN 2  OO 

COUSIN   PAUL I    75 

vanquished. — Agnes  Leonard 175 

merquem. — George  Sand 1  75 


Faustina. — From  the  German $1  50 

maurice. — From  the  French 1  50 

gustave  adolf. — From  the  Swedish  1  50 

ADRIFT    WITH   A  VENGEANCE I   50 

up  Broadway. — Eleanor  Kirk i  50 

montalban 1  75 

life  and  death 15° 

jargal. — By  Victor  Hugo i  50 

claude  gneux. — By  Victor  Hugo..  1  50 
the  honeymoon. — A  love  story ....  1  50 
mary  urandegee. — Cuyler  Pine. . .  1  75 
renshawe. — Cuyler  Pine 1  75 


Miscellaneous   Works. 

A  book  OF  epitaphs. — Amusing,  quaint,  and  curious (new) $1  50 

women  and  theatres. — A  sketchy  book  by  Olive  Logan 1  50 

souvenirs  of  travel. — By  Madame  Octavia  Walton  LeVert 2  oc 

the  art  of  amusing. — A  book  of  home  amusements,  with  numerous  illustrations,  1  50 

how  to  make  money  ;  and  how  to  keep  it. — T.  A.  Davies 1  50 

Italian  life;  and  Legend. — Anna  Cora  Mowatt,     Illustrated 1  50 

ballad  of  lord  bateman. — Illustrations  by  Cruikshank  (paper) 25  cts 

Angelina  gushington. — Thoughts  on  men  and  things... 1  50 

behind  the  scenes;  at  the  "White  House." — By  Elizabeth  Keckley 2  00 

the  yachtman's  primer.  — For  amateur  sailors.     T.  R.  Warren  (paper) socts 

rural  architecture.— By  M.  Field.     With  plans  and  illustrations 2  00 

life  of  horacb  GREELEY. — By  L.  U.  Reavis.     With  Portrait 2  00 

what  1  know  of  farming. — By  Horace  Greeley 1  50 

7HE  franco-prussian  war  in  1870. — By  M.  D.  Landon.     With  maps 2  00 

practical  treatise  on  labor. — By  Hendrick  B.  Wright 2  00 

twelve  views  Op  heaven. — By  Distinguished  Divines 1  50 

houses  not  MATvE  with  hands. — An  illustrated  juvenile,  illustrated  by  Hoppin   1  00 

living  writers  of  the  south. — By  Professor  J.  W.  Davidson ...    2  00 

cruise  of  the  Alabama  and  sumter. — By  Captain  Semmes 1  50 

nojoque.—  A  question  for  a  continent.     By  H.  R.  Helper 200 

IMPENDING  CRISIS  OF  THE  SOUTH.  Do.  .... 2  OO 

negroes  in  neg roland.  Do.      (paper) i  oo 


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